A Story With No Title
by EYES to LIE
Summary: In an island of chaos, Sora and I are the thieves. Destiny Islands, a former island paradise ravaged by the horrors of the Night Waves, is now our prison under the eyes of the Seven Counsel. Getting out? Easy enough. Surviving? A bit harder. AU OOC HIATUS
1. Unlocking Glamour

**Ninja'd by a Multi Bunny! Beware the fearsome Multi-Bunnies! Now firstly, this is a Sora and Kairi story. Not necessarily in that order. Riku may show up, but he just as easily may not. Just wanted to make that clear. Another thing is, this is completely and utterly AU. As in Alternate Universe as in no Keyblades, no evil Disney Villains plotting to take over the world with adorable, black, malformed bunny rabbits. I plan on having the Heartless in here at some point... But that's just because they're so damn cute! Any of the other characters in here are probably originals, and I don't plan on using any Disney or Squeenix characters if I can avoid it.**

**This story's development was assisted by Scarlet Ookami. Give her some love, people.**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Kingdom Hearts. Cha.

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_A Story With No Title  
Chapter One: Unlocking Glamour_

Locks are like life, they're so fragile. A wrong twist here, a bad pop there, and you can just break the whole thing to pieces. But, of course, that's not something professionals do. That's not something _I_ do. But a small part of me is still nervous as I glance at the boy next to me. "Are you sure this info is solid, Sora?" I whisper to him for what could possibly be the third time since he found this job. He just smiles and nods.

"Solid as it gets, Kai." I don't bother trying to tell him for the umpteenth time that my name isn't _Kai. _It's Kairi. That bit of news would go right in one ear and out the other one with him. Despite his uncanny ability to remember the secret entrances to every place he's ever scouted, my name seems to be the one thing he just can't recall. But oh well. Time to work. I pull my lock picks from the black case in my baggy black overall pants and start on the lock. Locks are also like people, they're so easy to maneuver. All you have to really do is break all the pins. Then you're in.

The wooden door creaks open once the padlock isn't there to hinder it anymore. The inside of the house is a lot like the outside; dreadful in every sense of the word. The wallpaper is peeling off the walls, the floorboards look rotten, and the stench of wet dog is strong in the air. But if Sora says the information is solid, then it's solid. And it's here. "Stick to the walls," I breathe the words to him, following my own advice. In old homes like this, the rotted boards tend to stay in the center. The walls are the safest. We cling to the sides like that for awhile, inching our way around the danger zone of the main room. When we near a tiled hallway, I glance at Sora, silently asking him which way to go. He raises his right hand. Right it is then.

The halls are tiled, so things are a lot easier. Our boots—worn soft from overuse—hardly make a sound on the floor, but we still move slowly. This isn't the time to be careless. It's never the time to be careless in the den of the Glamour. Suddenly there's a tug on my sleeve, and I glance back at Sora, who is making hand motions, not willing to speak. Left turn. Right turn. Right turn. Black door. Keep quiet. Don't die. Thanks for the encouraging words. I keep my mouth shut to bite back the sarcastic remark and follow his directions.

As we reach the door, an overwhelming stench of decay erupts, nearly smothering the both of us. Pulling up the violet mouth mask tucked into my black shirt lessens the strength, and I motion for Sora to do the same with his blue one. The door is locked of course. One, two, three, four, five, six. The lock clicks open and we slip in the door, making sure to close it behind us. The shape of a dark staircase is barely visible before me, and with each step down, the scent gets worse and worse. We may as well have been standing in a lake of corpses.

Sora starts to take a step forward, but I hold him back, pointing at the ceiling. I follow his gaze up. There they were. Shimmering crystals and steel, the Glamour hung from the rotten floorboards of the upper level, the source of the stench. Shaped like great metal birds with razor-sharp teeth, their talons clung to the wood. Nightmare birds that preyed on the dead and reeked constantly of their last meal. No one knows when they first appeared on Destiny Island. No one really cared much to know; after all, people seem to be happy as long as they aren't the next to die.

I bring my eyes back down to the stained stone floor. Getting down on my hands and knees, I begin to crawl across, hoping to blend in with the nighttime shadows as much as possible. By the small scuffing noises, I can tell my partner is right behind me, so I continue creeping along. Where is it? The light from the full moon peers in through a crack in the walls, illuminating the target, one of the Glamour's few possessions; a steel coffin. But that coffin isn't holding a dead body. It's holding something a lot more important.

Throwing the smallest amount of caution to the wind, I get to my feet, still moving as quietly as physically possible. And as carefully, trying not to step on one of the many human and animal bones that litter the floor. I peer at the metal box, trying to make out if the case is wired with pressure wisps or alarm plates. As far as I can tell there aren't any, so I glance back at Sora and give him a nod. He's the only one who knows how to open the box. Stepping forward, he lightly runs his gloved fingertips over the surface. He does this a few times, before he finally stops and taps twice in one spot. With a barely audible _click_, the upper layer of the case opens, exposing the goods within.

A few Power Disks are the first things I notice, and I snatch them up, shoving them in my knapsack, and Sora does the same thing with the Coder Chips. When we near the end of the coffin, something catches my eye. It's a small bronze circle with a hook on it. A few different colored gemstones border the edge of the circle, and the center seems to turn in and out at the same time. For a moment I stare at it, not really believing what I'm seeing. But that's what it is, no doubt about it. Ancient's Art. That was worth possibly hundreds of thousands of credits on the black market, enough to feed me and Sora for a few months. Without thinking I reach towards it, but hesitate for a moment. Why did the Glamour have this? Another thought rises in my mind. Do I care? Not really.

I snatch it up and shove the artifact in my pocket, motioning to Sora that it's far past time to leave. As we turn around, a loud _crack! _causes the both of us to freeze in our spots. Oh no. I look over and see a leg bone—arm bone? Who knows.—split in half under Sora's boot. Oh please no. I force myself to look at the ceiling for the second time that night. Most of the Glamour are still asleep, but one of them opens a blood red eye and stares at us in rage. It doesn't matter that it's only one. One is all you need.

"Shit." Now throwing all remaining caution and carefulness to the wind, I bolt along the bone-riddled floor, Sora right at my side. I take the opportunity to give him a verbal bashing while holding on to my goggled cap. "This is _not _what I wanted! I wanted simple, I wanted in and out, I wanted easy money!" He just smiles at me.

"Don't you just hate it when things don't go according to plan, Kai?" that ass. But I shut up and try to conserve my breath as best I can, dashing up the stone staircase—damn me for closing the damn door!—and into the tiled hall. I can hear the Glamour rampaging behind us, knocking bricks loose from the walls and slicing them into slivers with its wings. And if we don't keep moving, that what'll happen to us. Shit.

I can see the door as we clear the halls, but the thought of the rotten floor doesn't reenter my head until my boot breaks through. "Dammit!" Sora wheels around and yanks one of my arms in a desperate attempt to free me from the ground. His grip is firm, and so is mine—thanks to the thumb holes I cut in my long sleeves so I can wear them over my hands and prevent sweaty palms—so it should only take a few moments. But that's a few moments we don't have. "Pull harder!" I hiss at him through clenched teeth, and he complies. But I don't budge an inch.

"It's not working, Kai!" the mouth mask flattens the edge of panic in his voice, but I can still pick up on it. Behind us, the Glamour is the halls, now, doing what all monsters do best; making a huge and loud mess of things to try and increase the tension. I can feel pure adrenaline rushing through my veins now, and in a sudden burst of energy, I start kicking at all the wooden boards trapping my leg. "Are you off your axis?" Sora tries to control his volume. "Do you want to wake _all _of the Glamour up?"

"Do you want me to be birdseed for the one right behind us?" I growl at him, still kicking. Finally, a plank comes loose and I nearly go flying from where I'm stuck. No time to regain my balance, no time to breathe. We just get going out the door, silently praying for the moon to still be out. For once, luck seems to be in our favor. The clouds from before are nearly all gone, and the Glamour only sticks its head out before letting out a cry of immeasurable pain as its metal and jeweled head starts to melt from the brief contact.

For a moment, we stare, grateful that the rumors and songs are true. The only thing a Glamour can't stand is a full moon. Then Sora bursts out laughing. I smack him on the back of his head, messing up his gravity defying hair. "Never again, you hear me? I'm never going in a Glamour's Den _again!_" he rubs his skull for a moment before smiling again.

"But we got a good haul, right?"

"I don't care if next time they have the elixir of life itself, I am not going in another one of those Hellspots." He starts laughing again and I just grab the back of his shirt and pulling him along, muttering that we should go back home already.

* * *

Sora and I live in the slums of Destiny Islands—which is really just one big island with gray waves and gray skies—in a place hidden from the eyes of the Seven Counsel, the leaders who showed up a decade ago and now govern the island. I discovered Home after a really bad Night Wave and have been living there ever since. I call it Home because I can't really call it a house. It's more like a two story building made up of old sheets of metal that were smelted together after the Night Waves brought the fire rain. Sora isn't exactly a recent addition to my living spaces, but he's still a little pale around the fins compared to the rest of us who grew up in the slums. He lived in the Middle Zone for Middle Families who make Middle Wages until a Night Wave arrived and turned his family members in to Remnants. After that, he moved to the Low Zone—the slums. And saved me from a particularly violent and somewhat embarrassing brawl at Syon's Bar.

I needed help; he needed a place to sleep. Eventually, things worked themselves out. He could last in a fight, and had a "photographic and analytical mind", as he put it. Code for he could remember things easily and work out mostly any problem. A scout. So we figured out a plan. He'd search, I'd break and enter, he'd do heavy lifting, and I'd help. Normally it was a nice, easy job. Robbing drunken people, for example. We could dance on their beds without waking them. Tonight's Glamour run obviously went beyond the boundaries of _The Usual. _

I open the rusty metal door of Home, wanting nothing more than to collapse in my cocoon of warm blankets and overstuffed pillows. From the way Sora is dragging his feet, I'm guessing our desires are one and the same at the moment. I try to tell myself we can take inventory of our catch tomorrow, but I know we can't. The Glamour come out in the mornings, and we stole from them. We need to get the items to merchant and sold off quickly, and luckily one is also sharing a room in Home.

Firelk leaps to his feet the minute we enter, glee shining in his honey brown eyes. "Didja get the goods, Kai?" another person completely neglectful of my real name, but I pay him no mind. Jump peel off my sack and drop it at his feet. Sora does the same.

"Sell them, Firelk. Sell them, get them out of our sight, and pay me my money." I summon the last of my energy to give him a deadly look. "Or you might end up on the wrong side of my mood." He knows not to break our deal—I provide a (semi)warm bed, a (semi)warm meal, and he sells my winnings. I suppose with Home, I could be an Innkeeper, but that attracts too much unwanted attention. So oh well.

Before I head to bed I stop at the bathroom, to wash the grime from my face. I catch a glance of myself in the mirrors. Dark red hair—a little ragged at the edges due to my own awkward attempts to cut it—hung light and clean due to the (semi)warm baths I take in the morning. My skin was pale as milk compared to Sora's naturally tan complexion, but I don't mind. It's my eyes that unnerve even me. A Night Wave changed them. Before they were a blue so deep they appeared purple. But now there's no guessing as to their color, for they're an almost lavender shade. The eyes of a blind person, but I'm not blind. It was a gift and a burglary from the Night Wave at the same time. My eyesight was better now, superhuman even. With a blink, I could be looking at things differently, incredibly detailed. I could pick up a bead of sweat from a few miles away. But looking into them was like peering into a well of violet ice. That could be helpful in the slums, so it was just as well.

I finish washing up and force myself to take the remaining few steps to the ocean of fabric I call a bed. Not bothering to change and not daring to take off my clothes, I wrap myself underneath all the layers and close my eyes. Sleep lures me deep into the oceans of oblivion.

When I wake, it's to the smell of bacon, a delightful scent compared to what I endured last night. My body feels like it's made of lead, but I know if I don't get up now, I won't be able to move later. After knowing him for five years, I still find it amazing that Sora can be awake so early after a job. I hear his cheerful whistling through the thin wood of my door and manage to haul myself to my feet and walk out.

"Morning Kairi!" he greets me cheerfully when he sees me. Then he pauses and adds, "You look like hell," as an afterthought. I scowl.

"Gee, Sora. Don't coat it with honey. Tell me how you really feel." I retort dryly, and he lets out an amused chuckle. I crane my neck to see the bacon and eggs in the pan, but he answers my unspoken question.

"Breakfast'll be done in twenty. Go take your bath. I made Firelk save the good water for you." I grunt out a thanks and head to the main bathroom, the only one with an actual _bath. _Twenty minutes and one almost hot bath later, I'm feeling less like a dead weight and more like I could actually walk around without falling flat on my face. I wrap a terrycloth robe around me and walk back to my room. Sora, out of months of trial and error, turns his head away the exact moment I pass by. When I'm in my room, I lock the almost paper-thin barrier I call a door behind me and get dressed.

In the slums, you can never dress too pretty without the risk of getting your throat slit, but you can't dress like some badass bitch, because that just pisses everyone else off. You need to have a measure of coolness, intimidation, and inapproachability, without overdoing it. I pull on a pair of black jeans (a little loose, but oh well), lace-up combat boots, a black miniature china shirt with gold piping, over a white tank top. My arms feel bare, so I also snatch up some elbow and wrist length, black mesh fingerless gloves. I leave my hair as-is.

When I emerge again, Sora is setting two plates of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table, and one in the leftover cupboard for Firelk. "Feeling more alive?" he asks me when he sits down to eat. I shrug and join him, digging in to the plate. Bacon is a rare treat and I swallow it with reckless abandon. Then a thought strikes me and I pause.

"Sora?" he looks up from his own almost cleared plate at me.

"Hunh?"

"Where did you get this pork and how much did it cost?" he shrugs at me.

"Firelk said he got it as a trade item for one of our Power Disks. And yes, almost all of them are sold. Don't worry so much, Kai." He starts eating again, and his words cause the knot of slight panic in my gut to untangle itself. We both eat in silence for a few minutes until he sighs contentedly and I lean back in my chair. "That was heaven." He says dreamily.

"It was better than that thin nu-gruel they serve at homeless shelters, I'll give it that." I reply, refusing—for some unknown reason—to agree with him. He doesn't even try to change my mind, but just asks me the usual question.

"So, what's the plan for today, Kairi?" he laces his hands behind his head and juts his elbows out, looking at me expectantly.

"I'll get the money from our resident merchant and stock up on supplies. You keep your ears open for any new job opportunities." He nods and smiles at me again. I give him an indifferent stare.

"Lemme guess. You want simple, you want in and out, you want easy money?" I grunt in agreement, completely ignoring the joke attempt behind the words. The smile thins a little, but doesn't fade. "Meet you at Syon's for some tipsiuch?" Tipsiuch is a ginger, lemon, and soda drink made by the owner, one of the few non-alcoholic beverages sold at Syon's. And one of the few things I'm willing to admit both Sora and I like.

"Alright. Noon." I scoot my chair back over the stone floor and trop my tin plate in the sink before turning around and heading towards the door. Behind me Sora calls out,

"See you then, Chief!" another joke attempt. I just wave my hand over my shoulder as I walk out.

"I'm not a chief."

* * *

Finding Firelk is easier said that done. As one of the youngest merchants in the black market, he's always got a small booth along the back walls. Which makes it more like trying to find an anthill in a field of holes and caverns. Eventually I do hunt him down, and discover—to his pride and my unseen delight—that all of the items have been sold. He hands me a sack of golden credits after taking a few platinum for himself—his ten percent of the sales. Properly paid, I walk away and start to browse the marketplace—this time as a buyer, instead of a seeker.

The black market, despite its somewhat intimidating name, is just like any other marketplace. The air is filled with the scent of spices, roasting meat, and decorated by an array of clothing sewn by High Zone seamstresses who take pity on those of us who live in the slums. The only difference is no one here has a vending license, and none of the guards care enough to report them to the Seven Counsel. The first thing I buy is food, seeing as how our supply is running low. The meat prices are high, as always, but the vegetables aren't expensive or rotten, which means good news for Sora and me. I purchase some meat flavoring—which, strangely, _is _cheap—and figure that he could make soup tonight. I haven't been allowed near the kitchen since I tried to make vegetarian lasagna and ended up almost burning Home down, despite it being made completely of metal.

Without thinking, I pick up some pants and shirts for Sora and a few for me too. A few scraps of cloth here and there, considering none of our clothes ever manage to stay completely intact after a week. Sadly, threading a needle is the extent of my sewing ability. Strangely, Firelk is much better than I am, but I'm still grateful for it. I glance at the giant clock towering above the market. Almost noon. But I figure Sora can wait a few extra minutes, besides; he's not exactly Sir Ontimealot. I stop at Home for a few minutes to put the items away and store the credits in my safe. By the time I get to Syon's, I can already see that things are not going alright.

Sora standing outside the bar is fine. The two cups of tipsiuch on the ground are _not _fine, and neither is the fact that Sora is grabbing some other guy's collar with his face right up in their's. When you see someone doing that it either means that there's going to be a passionate kiss or some kind of fight. I don't like fights, they draw unnecessary attention from the Guard. With my Night Wave sight I can Sora's face start to go red—from anger or all the yelling, I can't tell which—and decide it's about time for some intervention. Syon beats me to it.

Weighing a shocking two-hundred pounds, Syon is made of pure muscle and can barrel through a dozen normal sized slum children as if they were bowling pins in a one of the abandoned lanes. The burly bar owner easily separates the two boys and—now that the imminent risk has passed—I turn to try out my advanced sight on the unknown one. But as soon as I start to increase the focus on him, my eyes burn like I just stabbed a million sewing needles in them. Quickly covering them with my gloved hands, I let out a yelp of pain that seems to attract Sora's attention. In a blink—if I _could _blink—he's at my side, asking me if I'm alright and what happened. I just brush him off by repeating "I'm fine," over and over again.

I just stand there for a moment, cutting off my sight. Then I notice my shoulder feels warmer than usual and realize Sora draped an arm across it. Quickly I forget about the pain in my eyes and straighten up, dropping the arm like a lead weight. I open my eyes again, blinking away the fuzziness of my sight, and brace myself for the pain. It doesn't come. Whatever it was must've passed. Wanting to put that embarrassing moment behind me, I turn to Sora with a stern look on my face, scaring away his concerned look with one glance.

"I said I'm fine, Sora." He starts to protest.

"Just tell me what was wr—"

"You, however, are _not _fine. What the hell were you thinking?"

"What was I…? I didn't do—"

"Starting a fight in broad daylight in the seediest place on the entire damn island! That's what you did, Sora! Did you get hit on the head last night?"

"No! Now will you shu—"

"Why not just go grab a guard, slug him in the face, and say 'arrest me for disorderly conduct'?"

"You're just exaggerating now!"

"Am I? You know what it's like down here, don't you?" I lower my volume, the thought that in arguing about him attracting a guard, we might actually _attract one_, finally occurring to me. Reigning in my emotions, I put on my stone face.

"Of course I know what it's like down here."

"Then what in your right mind possessed you to do that?" to this, he doesn't answer, but I'm not taking silence as an answer. "What was the fight about?" again, no answer. "Whatever, fine, don't tell me." I start to walk toward Syon's, to finally get my drink. He stops me.

"I'm sorry, alright? I got stupid." His hand puts an uncomfortable warmth in my shoulder again, and I shrug it off.

"So what else is new?" I glance over my shoulder right when he opens his mouth to disagree again. "Just shut up and get a drink with me, idiot." He relaxes and grins like the idiot I just called him.

"Alright, Chief." I turn away and roll my eyes, even though he can't see it.

"I'm not a Chief," I tell him again and head into Syon's.

Outside, the bar looks like any other Low Zone bar—seedy, disgusting and horrible on levels no one can really think to describe anymore. The inside is something special. Dark wood is polished till it shines, red lanterns hang from the ceiling, and there's none of the usual drunkards swaying around with piss staining their pants like there are at _The Nothingtown. _Quiet music pulses in the background and gives the place a calmer feeling. I suppress a grin as I look around. The ruddy light casts an odd glow on Syon as he approaches us with two more jugs of tipsiuch. Despite his scary appearance, the old man has always had a soft spot for me and me for him. As he hands me the mug, the owner gives me a conspiratorial smile and whispers, "Just for you, extra lemon and soda." I give him a small smile in return and take a sip. Then he spots Sora.

"Ah! I see the spiky one is still coming round, yes? Bring no riff-raff to my shop front, no more please. Bad for business" his smile is wide, the bright white of his fake teeth standing out in stark contrast with his tanned skin. Sora grins back.

"Sorry Syon, won't happen again. I see your English is as bad as ever." He accepts his own oversized wooden cup and gives me a mock salute with it when I shoot him a Look. Syon doesn't really mind Sora's jabs about his English anyways, having come from a different part of Destiny Island. Once, when I asked him why he didn't work on his English and try to lose his accent, he gave me a sheepish smile and said, 'It adds to my foreign mystique,'.

The conversation draws me back. "So, who was the High Man?" High man? What? Had someone gotten into a drug? Syon sees my ill-disguised look of confusion and smiles again. "The man outside. Obviously from High Zone, he was. The seams of his clothing almost invisible, and no dirt on them but from the journey here, yes? Definitely a High Man." Sora's jaw clenches together and I change the subject, knowing he probably won't say a word on it.

"It's not important, Syon." I brush my hand through the air, as if to dismiss the topic. "We just came by to pick up a drink. We won't be causing you any trouble today." I wonder if there's a smile in my eyes, but I can't help it if there is. This absurdly strong yet almost grandfatherly man brings out the worst in me, I suppose.

"Then in, in! Sit at a table, speak words and leave me money when you done, yes?" we agree and he leads us to a table, reminiscing on the way. "Ah, I remember still clear as crystal first time Kairi came to my bar. Terrified she was. Scared little girl, yes? Thought the worst." My hand clenches around the handle of my drink and I see Sora shoot me a questioning look.

"That was a long time ago, Syon." I manage to squeeze out in a level voice. "Past is past, no point in thinking about it." He nods sagely and finally stops at a table. I take my seat, setting my mug down with a little more force than needed. Again, another look from Sora. Syon walks away, other customers to attend to. Certain there's no more talk of before coming, I allow myself to relax in my seat and take another sip of the sweet and sour liquid. The soda water in it teases my throat on its way down. I place the cup on the table again, waiting for Sora to finish his swig. "So," I saw when he does. "Find anything?" he shakes his head.

"Nothing. All the good jobs are sucked dry, and I don't think you feel up to another Hellspot Raid." This time, it's my turn for headshaking. Two times in as many days is two times too many.

Hellspots are the dens of monsters like the Glamour, Liviens, and Alloras. There's more types, but those three are the most dangerous. Unfortunately, they're also the best paying jobs out there, and we're forced to take a few when money runs tight. Like yesterday. When you start eating stale bread crusts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, you know something needs to be done. The good news, is that with the heap of gold credits we earned, we can afford to be unemployed for a little bit. Maybe a few weeks, or a month and some weeks at best. Only Hellspot Jobs pay that well. Sora and I are the only thieves at the ages of sixteen and fifteen to complete Hellspot jobs emotionally and physically intact.

"We'll be fine without work for a little while," I saw into my cup and see Sora nod his agreement. Time passes with the two of us sitting in silence, drinking from our mugs. Finally, when I go to take another sip, I find myself staring into the empty bottom. Standing up, I place a few platinum credits in the drained-dry cup and head for the door, Sora trailing close behind. A few more quiet moments pass before either of us finally speak.

"So…" I give him a glance out of the corner of my eye and wince a little. The sun is shining directly at the side of his face, and into my eye. With it, his honey brown locks appear a solid gold and his eyes look lighter. His continually law breaking hair bounces with each step. Another pause.

"What?" I ask him, fed up with the peace.

"What was Syon talking about before? About you being scared and all, I mean. I've never known you to be scared of anything." I don't miss a step, but when he turns to look at me, I'm pretty close to positive my gaze is blood-chilling worthy.

"Don't bring up unimportant things, Sora. People who dig in the past get lost in it." I let ice lace the frame of my words. He exhales an angry sounding huff.

"Oh, c'mon Kai. You've gotta let me learn something about you _sometime._" This time I don't even look at him.

"My name is _Kairi_, not _Kai. _Either get it right or don't talk to me at all, Sora." I pause for a moment. "And no, no I don't. So shut up and just walk."

Which is exactly what he does, and we walk in silence again until we get home. Firelk greets us outside with more gusto than necessary and I feel my suspiciousness start to tickle the insides of my stomach. Something's off, but a quick glance at Sora tells me I'm the only one who thinks so. But he can't see the sweat glittering on the back of Firelk's neck as he leads us inside. He's nervous. I can almost smell it on him. Just before we enter, I grab his shoulder and he jumps a few inches in the air.

"You," I tell him. "Are going to tell me what is going on right now, Firelk. I'm rather short on patience right now." His mouth opens and closes for a moment, and I'm struck with the image of a glibbfish—an overly flat fish that lives off the coast of the island and has an annoying habit of gasping even when in water. He finally manages to croak out a few pathetic words.

"N-n-nothing's wrong!" I level my face with his, letting the anger from before flood back into my eyes. He shivers.

"You lie." Before he can protest again, a cheerful voice calls out from inside.

"It's fine, Firelk, my boy. All is well, it's nice to see that the young lady is so perceptive, very perceptive indeed! Enter, young ones, enter so I may speak with you!" I stare at Sora, surprise rimming both our eyes. With a distrusting air, we do as the man's voice says and see the man fitting the voice sitting at our table, holding the Ancient's Art I found. My fist tightens. The man turns to me and smiles, the smoothness of his angular face wrinkles. With wispy blonde hair, washed out blue eyes, and tan skin, he's every girl's dream. To me he looks overdone. My eyes are more attracted to the artifact in his hand. "A pretty little trinket, isn't it? I'd love to know where you got it."

"Who are you and what do you want?" it's my question, but Sora asks it, metal barbing his simple questions. But the man takes no notice of it and just laughs.

"My name is Carman, and I have a job for the two of you. And, should you take it, I do hope the two of you have strong stomachs."

* * *

**After ten million hours spent on the computer squeezing out a first chapter, I'm pretty pleased. This is probably the longest damn thing I've ever written. Review. I mean it.**


	2. So Much Better

**And the Multi-Bunny survives! Yes, I had some doubts, but I figured that I may as well keep the one story I actually had some interest in alive. Anyways, after many… months? Of struggle, I give you Chapter Two of A Story With No Title, the tale of two thieves and a lot of drama llamas. I'm sure you're as joyous as I am. Woo… In this chapter, we have crazy blondes, the mention of evil malformed bunnies, witty banter, violence… The whole shabang. So yeah. Enjoy the new chapter. And review.**

**This story's development was—once again—assisted by Scarlet Ookami/Ronrie. She still needs some love, people.**

**Disclaimer: Not my game. Deal with it.**

* * *

Sora and I glance at each other for a moment, both of us not sure if we were hearing right. Carman laughs again. "You are confused, I see, well no worries, no troubles!" he leans forward, peering at the two of us with a glint in his eyes. "You see, I've heard much about the two of you. Best thieves in the Low Zone, they say. Want a job done, go to Kairi and Sora. Kairi knows how to get the job done, they say. Of course, your reputation is nothing but talk without action. It needs to be solid, isn't that right?" he looks expectantly at Sora, who doesn't answer, as confused as me at why he's asking Sora a question directed to me. A few quiet moments pass. "Well Kairi?" he prompts.

"Well what?" I answer and his attention shifts to me. Any hint of friendliness drops from Carman's face and a cold realization settles over him.

"_You're _Kairi? A woman?" he doesn't wait for me to respond, just mutters. "Well, what world is this, when women are stronger? What world is this…" he snaps his head back to me. "Man is far superior to woman, yet only woman can create a child. Does that seem right to you?" I disagree with that sentence, but don't say anything. "Well, your stare is mighty unsettling, you are a fearsome creature. Now I see why I thought Kairi was the boy and Sora the girl, see, the reputation also said you are quite scary, and I thought that to be false when I saw your friend here." He shrugs, ending the rambling sentence. "But reputations, nothing but words, not solid, see?" Sora and I share another look, this one communicating the same message; _this man is seriously off his axis. _

Carman laughs once more. "Well, well, enough with your constant chattering. Let's get to business, shall we? Yes, I believe we shall, we shall indeed. You see, I need the two of you to steal something for me, something _very _important, understand?" he pauses for a moment. "Oh dear, tut-tut, I nearly forgot. Here, sit, sit, both of you, sit. Firelk, go, off to your room with you!" he motions us over and shoos him away. Hesitantly, we take our seats at the table. The blonde man grins.

"Well, this is nice. Kairi is her own right hand man—woman, forgive my rudeness. And Sora is her left, but for now until the end of the job, I suppose your hands are my hands so I may as well call Kairi my right hand and Sora my left. Or the other way around. But that is beside the point. Now, for the object in question I want you to steal, it is very important. _Very _much so. You see, what I wish to acquire is a piece of technology, very rare, very rare indeed. Almost as rare as your trinket here." He holds up the glittering Ancient Art again, and then tosses it to me. I snatch it out of the air and grip the circle to my palm before putting it in my pocket. Again, another pause. "Don't you want to know what is on this very rare item?"

"We haven't accepted your job yet."

"But you're listening," he points out.

"Which means I'll listen." He claps his hands together enthusiastically, as if I had just won him a prize.

"Wonderful, a professional to the words and to the letter! Now listen up and listen well, my two little hoodlums; the man you are to steal from is named Bellacose, a Middle Man, who specializes in art and technology from the Ancient Era. He could have easily moved into the High Zone with all his knowledge, but stays in the Middle anyways, even though he probably could have more benefits if he lived in the Low…" he pauses, letting us digest this small amount of information before continuing. "What he does, you see, is tap into the hidden abilities locked inside Ancient's art and technology. Some open doors where no doors should be. Some heal. Some destroy. He even has this thing, quite like a radar it is. Picks up the signal Ancient's Art gives off once activated, then goes and snatches it up himself. Very, very dangerous and very, very important work, which is why the Seven Counsel values him and pay him an innumerable salary. But what I'm after is not money, no what I'm after is far more important."

He takes out a wrinkled piece of paper with a crude sketch of a MemoirDisk on it. Next to the Disk was what looked like a key, which he pointed to first. "I need this key, you see. It opens a lock which cannot be picked, only opened by this key. And inside this place that cannot be opened is the disk. You will find the location of the key and steal it. Then you will return to me for further instructions as to where the place that cannot be opened resides. Simple enough, isn't it?"

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. "How much?" he looks puzzled.

"How much what?"

"Credits. How many credits and what kind?"

"Ah," he smiles again. "Diamond Credits." Sora, who had been leaning back too, shot up in his seat.

"Diamond Credits?" he nearly shouts. Carman laughs.

"Indeed, the highest rank of credits, yours for the taking! And how many you ask? I say about a hundred-thousand would be fair." This time I'm the one who sits up.

"If you have that kind of money, why hire a bunch of Low Zone thieves?" he lets out another sound of mirth.

"My dear, my dear, it seems you aren't as bright as I'd hoped. I need people who—if caught, tortured and killed—would have no relation to me whatsoever." He interlaces his fingers and rests his chin on them, leaning forward. "You see, Bellacose is a very nasty man, oh very nasty indeed! Always loved blood and gore and all those sick little things that seemed to tickle his fancy. But, for all his repulsive faults, he is a brilliant scientist. Which is why I need you two; people who know nothing but my name, psh, they are worth nearly nothing!" he shrugs, but I feel my insides bristle. "Naught but ashes and dust. Surely he would think you were only people sent by no one and nothing to invade a Middle Zone Home. Quite simple, you see?" he pauses.

"Oh dear, oh me oh my, don't look at me like that." He looks at the two of us, both letting out the same level of hostility. "I didn't call you worthless because you are worthless children, but look at it my way! It is _because _you are worthless children that you're about to have worth!" a feeling of understanding lights up inside me.

"I see," Sora manages to exert some control and slowly turn to look at me, instead of snapping his head towards me at breakneck speed.

"You do?" disbelief lines his words.

"You want something stolen, but can't have it link to you, right?"

"Indeed! To have a link would be the height of foolishness I would say! So I turn to the two of you and ask you to accept my rather generous proposition." For a moment, there's nothing but silence as we think. Sora and I exchange glances for a few moments, communicating with our eyes. Finally he speaks.

"Thank you for your job offer, Carman," he begins. "But we would like a few days to think this over." The blonde man frowns, the answer not seeming to be what he had hoped to hear. I cut in.

"From the nearly miniscule bit of info you've given us, this Bellacose sounds dangerous. You haven't bothered to explain how or why that is, and we feel there may be a chance you won't bother gifting us with the answer. This creates unprecedented risks, which tend to end in one or more unwanted bodies." I add extra frigidity in my stare and my voice to make sure he knows this is non-negotiable. "And I _don't _put much stock in useless risks." Carman's gaze dims and he seems to ponder my words for a few minutes. Then he chuckles.

"I see, I see. You take care of your friends, correct? Wouldn't want to work with damaged goods?"

"I don't have friends. Now you've requested our services, and we've heard what you've had to say. Now, if you'd be so kind as to help yourself to the door, seeing as you were able to let yourself in without any trouble." he sighs and stands up, stretching like an old man. But just before he leaves, a sparkle of mischief returns to his pale eyes as he gazes at Sora.

"Here that, boy? Must be nice to know you're expendable. Not a friend, not an ally, just a person. Lovely, isn't it?"

As he leaves, the door slams like a fist.

* * *

The calm after the storm dominates for the better part of ten seconds before Sora decides to break it. "So, what do you think, Kai?" he asks in an odd voice, turning to look at me. "Should we take the job?" I don't answer at first, just cross my arms and slump lower in my chair. Only when I've brooded about it for ten _more_ seconds do I answer.

"We aren't taking anything until we get some info. I don't want to run a blind job." Without looking at him, I can tell he's struggling with what to say next.

"I know information is key in a job… But doesn't knowing too much get you in trouble? What if you don't know anything? What can they do?" this time I do look at him, for a full minute I just look at him. Then I close my eyes and tell him just what an idiot he is. But he doesn't get it.

"I know things are shitty here in the Low Zone, but I used to live in the Middle. I know what the people there are like." He pauses, waiting for an insult. None come, so he continues. "They aren't like here, Kai. They don't do the things people here do, or else they would be… Well, you know, _here_." There's a pause again, and I finally decide to speak.

"Do you really know what people are like there, Sora? When your parents became Remnants and you were demoted, did anyone offer you a home?" I wait, but he says nothing. "Each takes care of their own, and no one else." I open my eyes and look at him again. "They do bad things to people, Sora. You just never saw." Normally when it comes to things, I tell them as they are, no softness, no coddling. But if it's something like this, reintroducing someone to way things are—reintroducing _Sora _to the way things really are—you need to have a certain amount of patience. He's lived in the Middle his whole life; he probably threw pebbles at the slummers like the rest of kids did for fun. But it's the world they live in, the fact that it's so different from this one. That's the problem, even more than the people are.

"You've run a blind job for a Higher Level, haven't you?" I blink, surprised how quickly he arrived at that conclusion from my mini-lecture. Then I nod slowly, refusing to talk or think about it. He just sighs and leans back in his chair. "Well, you _are _the voice of experience, so I guess you know best…" I raise my eyebrows slightly, giving him a look.

"You guess?" he laughs for some unknown reason, then stands up.

"I know. Anyways, we better let Firelk in, before he starts to think Carman murdered us both and your ghost will come back to glare at him." I scowl.

"Thanks."

"Welcome." He gives me another mock salute before walking towards the door of the room Firelk took refuge in. My door. That little rat of a merchant hid himself in my room. Sora opens the thin wood, and Firelk comes tumbling out, obviously having been eavesdropping. Looking up from the floor, he smiles sheepishly at me, glad he's been spared a lifetime of haunting I suppose. Sora gives him a hand and hauls the boy to his feet. A momentary pause hits the air before we all switch to the one topic everyone is comfortable with.

"So, Diamond Credits? You guys are gonna take it, right?" I look at Sora and he looks at me. We shrug and I stand up, walking over to the two of them. Firelk puts on his miffed face. "It's one-bloody-million Diamond Credits! How can you even have to think about that?"

"Because if we take the job, the 'bloody' you put in that sentence may be a little more literal than you intended." I shoot back at him, annoyed to be having this conversation all over again. "Look, until we find out more about this Bellacose, we're not taking anything."

Sora grins and asks me, "What's the game plan, chief?"

"I repeat, again, I'm not a chief. And no plan, just gathering. We need info, and if the guy has the rep Carman says he does, then we're bound to dig _something _up." The two of them nod, but I can see problems on both their faces. I sigh. "What?" Firelk nudges Sora to go first.

"We're known as thieves, Kai—"

"It's Kairi,"

"So when we start nosing around, people are gonna think we've got a new job, which we do. There might be a bit of competition too, you know, if they find out what we're getting paid."

"Then we send Firelk, he owes us."

"The thing is, Firelk is known to be working with us. And living with us. And selling for us." His logic makes a clear path through my brain, and I realize what he's getting at.

"So what you're really saying is that we're totally screwed."

"Pretty much, yeah."

Out of habit, I put my hand to my forehead and rub it, closing my eyes, something I tend to do when I'm either frustrated or… Well, mainly just frustrated. I need air, I need to think. I _don't_ need to be feeling Sora and Firelk looking at me expectantly, as if a good idea will just pop out like a shellcoal from its hole. Finally, when their staring gets to be a little too much for my reeling brain, I let them know. "If the two of you don't stop staring at me within the next five seconds, you're going to find yourself without eyes to look at me _with_." Firelk gets the rather clear message and heads for his room without a second thought. It's Sora who remains.

"Wanna go for a walk?" I open my eyes, seeing just the slightest hint of concern on his face. How does he always know when I need to get out? I guess he just does. Glancing at the clock tells me that Carman's odd little lecture took an hour, so now it's around three-thirty. Not late enough to be concerned.

"Yeah, let's go." Allowing my forehead peace, I turn around, walking out the door with Sora right behind me until he speeds up momentarily to catch up to my side. We move in silence for a bit, nodding at the familiar faces passing by. The sun burns down on me through the black clothing I prefer, and I oddly feel myself longing for the gray skies I hate so much. My companion doesn't seem bothered at all, just walking along, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Slowly, I begin to feel some of the previous tension exit my body, reconnecting me to the slums. My shoulders ease, my movements become less brisk, and I let myself breathe more easily. Sora, in that odd way of his, notices the slight changes.

"Feel better?" he asks, not hopefully or expectantly, just curiously. I stretch my arms above my skull, finally feeling in control of my mind.

"Much better." I turn to look at him, allowing a bit of gratitude to show on my face. "Thanks." The sun suddenly makes an annoying reappearance, but only hits the back of my head. My hair turns fiery red from the glow, and I wince at the light. "I think I should dye my hair." I say randomly, the idea having occurred to me a few weeks ago. Sora frowns, an odd occurrence.

"Why?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Well, if the eyes weren't enough, how many teenaged thieves do you know with red hair?" he thinks for a moment before responding.

"There's always Rin over on sixty-fourth." My (semi)pleasant mood deflates like a flat tire. Rin is not a thief, not a real one at least. She does lap dances for drunken men and takes their wallets. That's not thieving. That's whore-burglary. But even more offensive than her practice is that Sora knows her. I give him a look and his face suddenly takes on a reddish tint. "I've seen her in passing, Kairi! Jesus!" I can't help it; my lip twitches into a smile. I'm always telling Sora that he's the one that's easy to read, but he can see through me like I'm made of blown glass. I pull the smile off my face before he recovers from the embarrassment of my wordless implication.

"Her hair isn't even really red. She wears wigs." I comment nonchalantly, watching his reaction. His mouth just forms an 'o' shape, taking in this tidbit of information.

"They're good wigs then. I always thought her hair was actually red, though I'm not surprised you could see the difference with your fancy-fancy Night Wave eyes." I shrug and he continues. "You could probably work for the Authoriton if you wanted to badly enough. I've heard stories about them taking in Low Level kids with _'potential'._" This time he gets a response.

"No way in hell would they choose me, and no way in hell I would go."

The Authoriton is the elite group of soldiers sent out by the Seven Counsel, to track down and capture everyone from Low Levels where they don't belong, to Credit-Frauds and serial killers. They prowl the shadows of the streets, with black cloaks embroidered with the emblem of the Counsel. Ruthless, bloodthirsty men and women who were too eager to toss away the world they were born in for a 'higher place'. Outside we all call them traitors, all laughing and bravado, saying we'll kill any pets of the Seven Counsel who dare set foot in our territory. Inside, we dread the thought of them and shy away from any possible confrontation. Being chosen for the Authoriton is something that's supposed to be treated as the highest honor possible, but I wouldn't dream of it.

"You really have something against authority, don't you Kai?" I shoot him a look to remind him—once again—that my name isn't Kai.

"Just the kind that tries to tell me what to do," He laughs, and I realize that I may have just made a joke. Sora lifts his arms into the arm and interlaces his fingers behind his head, elbows jutting out. He smiles contentedly and looks at me. Again, the sun makes my eyes play tricks on me, turning his hair gold and his eyes a light blue instead of the deep cerulean color they've always been. He speaks, and the switch back to his normal self is just as fast.

"Don't dye your hair. You look nice with it red." I've never been one to listen to compliments—partly because I never get them—so for a moment I just look at him, then shrug once more, not feeling like arguing right now. "So, any thoughts on the job?" Back to business it seems. I stop walking and close my eyes for a moment, breathing in the air, letting the gears turn. I open my eyes and they stop.

"We've only done jobs for people in the Low Level, haven't we?" Sora turns his eyes skyward, thinking back with that incredible memory of his. After a moment, he answers.

"For the five years we've been working together, all of our jobs have been in the Low Level and for the people who live here. Want the exact number?" Tempting, but I need to keep my mind on track.

"Maybe later. Sora, when you lived in the Middle, how often did you hear stories about the slums? Not fiction, but actual stories of actual people down there?" Again, a pause.

"Almost never, where're you going with this?"

"So it's safe to say that if we went to the Middle Zone… No one would know who we are? Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Hypothetically, yes, that would be safe to say. If you don't mind getting a rather public execution like Rurruk and his merry gang of deadmen did when _they _got caught."

"And if we didn't get caught?"

"You're kidding, right?" I stare at him, totally serious. "Please, tell me you're kidding."

"If everyone in the Low Zone knows who we are, it stands to reason that we'd be free to snoop around in the Middle without concern, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind doing it as a corpse!"

"Sora…" he puts his hands over his ears, closing his eyes.

"Don't say it don't say it don't say it don't say it dontsayit…"

"We're sneaking into the Middle Zone." His hands drop, and his face looks completely and utterly defeated.

"She said it."

* * *

I don't need to say how often this happens—Sora and I disagreeing that is. However, when I'm being the reckless one and he's being the voice of reason, but I'm pushing forward with my idea anyways, there must be something wrong with the world. Both of us tend to be stubborn, refusing to bend. We stand bickering and pointing out problems and solutions, before the deafening sound of the clock tower rings out. The main tower is more of a warning bell, informing the inhabitants of the Low Zone that the sun is about to go down—the best time for thieves, and the worst time for people who were extremely unprepared. Despite it all, at this moment, Sora and I are the latter. Both sides of the useless argument stop, the two of us turning to look distrustfully at the horizon. There were the gray skies I had been hoping for, but instead of relief, dread flies through me.

"We need to go, Sora." I say, and see him nod in agreement with my peripheral vision. We turn around, heading back in the direction we came from. _Act like you came prepared. Act calm, act cool. _I will the thoughts toward him, and shove my hands in my pockets, controlling my own heartbeat by focusing on the Ancient's Art, however risky I know it is having the trinket with me. Luckily, Sora seems to know how to keep a stoic appearance. His face is impassive in the fading light, but I can feel that inside adrenaline is rushing. This is the first time he's been out since the Dusklight Bell.

Voices erupt into the eerily quiet night as we approach _The Nothingtown_, another brawl of the drunks most likely. But other than that and the occasional pitter-patter of feet through the shadows, it seems like we may be in luck. But the thing about luck, is that once you think that you may have it, you lose it. Just as we're crossing the doorway of the bar, a man flies out, landing on his ass. With a bottle clutched in one hand and the bright red face of a man who favors the drink too much, it's not hard to guess what he was doing in there. He stands up on shaky legs, waving the glass container at the rundown building angrily, trying to shout but slurring so badly there's no hope of comprehension. However, the swearing can't be mistaken.

"You motherless sons of bitches! Bastards, all of ya!"

And that's when things start to get ugly.

You see, men tend to hate being insulted. And men who've spent the past six years of their lives in a bottle seem to hate it even more. Strange, isn't it? Lots of men start filing out of the bar, eyes swimming with alcohol and faces red with anger. For a moment, everyone pauses, as if wondering if this is really worth it. Then, the man with the bottle—poor idiot—spits at them, and the fight explodes like an electrically charged bubble. Fists swinging, legs kicking, teeth biting, bottles crashing down on skulls, broken glass in the back… You name it, it's happening. As the fight grows, Sora and I start to realize maybe we should leave, but it's too late. Suddenly, an arm flies out and clips me in the cheek, and someone almost kicks my partner in the stomach, but he backs away just barely fast enough.

"If this keeps up, Kai, they're going to attract a guard!" Sora yells over the sound. But right after, everything goes quiet. "Or… not?" A circle of men is suddenly formed from the crowd. All backing away from something. Someone. Taller than me, Sora strains to see over the heads. "They killed him. They freaking killed him."

"Guards aren't the ones you need to worry about, Sora." I say and grab his arm, no longer interested in look stone-faced and collected, just interested in getting the two of us out of there. I start running, towing him along.

"Kairi, what're you—" he doesn't get any further in his question, cut of by a screech like nails across glass. I feel his skin turn icy beneath my hand, and his pace picks up, passing my own. Suddenly, it's him pulling me along to make me go faster, instead of the other way around. Bloodcurdling screams mingle with the sound of bells and act as encouragement to go faster, and we heed their calls, speeding along down the streets. Finally, we make it back to Home and slam the thick metal door behind us, bolting it several times over. We press our backs to the door, then slowly sink down to a sitting position, and only then do we breathe, gasping in air like we'd been underwater for hours. "That… those were Glamours… weren't they?" Sora managed to pant out.

I nod, even though he's not looking. When my lungs are full enough for a verbal answer, I squeeze out the words, "And Liviens. You heard the bells, didn't you?" I turn to look at him. His face is tinged red and bent forward, facing the floor. His eyes are shut tight, and despite the labored breaths, I can tell he's slowly feeling better. Then he gives an almost imperceptible nod, before turning to give me a weary smile, eyes still closed.

"Well, that's my workout for the year. One hell of a run, huh Kairi?" I don't answer, too focused on getting air back in my body. He sighs, seeming back to normal. "So it's true then? Liviens hunt and Glamours feast. I never thought monsters like that would even be able to work together, but…" I lean my head back against the metal structure of the door, tilting my eyes towards the ceiling.

"They say the Liviens that die shed their lights and become Remnants," I remark, having finally stopped gasping for air like a glibbfish. He turns to look at me, curiosity piqued.

"Their lights?"

"Liviens are creatures of light—ironically enough. The purest light you can find, and they flaunt that fact. They take of the guise of the Fey—" I pause. "You know what the Fey are, right?" he nods. "Okay then. They take on that image, bending the light to form the shape they desire. A visage like that is meant to lure someone in, and once there's no escape… They touch you. It's not painless either, it's supposed to be like a million red-hot needles burrowing into your soul for a brief instant. Then you just… die. Eventually, the Liviens get old and faded, like humans often do, but they shed their light and reveal their true selves. Black creatures with a hole where their heart should be." I pause for a moment, trying to remember a fragment of a poem used to describe them.

"'_Though they be born into light, their trueness be black as pitch.'_" Sora murmurs next to me, his voice tired. For a moment, sleep claws at me too, but I become all too aware of warmth in my arm.

"Hey Sora?"

"Nnn?"

I lift my arm, which still has his hand clasped around it. "Mind removing my new bracelet?" wordlessly, his hand falls off, and I relax. Then he mutters something again. "Huh?"

"Did you mean it when you told Carman you don't have any friends?" I smile, knowing full well that his eyes are closed.

"Yes, I did." I stand up, detaching myself from the metal door. Sora seems to have no inclination to move, as he just continues to slump against the door, his breathing becoming slower and deeper. Sighing, I walk to my room and pull some of the pillows and blankets from my little haven. By the time I walk back to the door, he's already fallen onto the floor, sleeping sound. I shove the pillow underneath his head and drape the blanket over him. For a moment, I just sit there next to him, making sure he's totally asleep. Then I whisper to him, glad that he can't actually hear me, "After all, a partner is much better than a friend."

Standing, I drag my feet to my room and shut the door, collapsing in the pile of softness and burrowing so far down I can't see anything. Closing my eyes, I sleep.

* * *

**And so ends the fearsome Chapter Two. Review? It's not such a scary little button you know.**


	3. Bellemore

**OH MY JESUS. Yes, I realize it has been ages since my last update, and I realize that this is longer than the standard chapter, but after months upon months of absolutely no inspiration, I was struck by it last night. Yes, I went from having 2700 words to having 6400 in one night. This morning just required the finishing touches. Yeah. So... If anyone's still reading this, I thank you!**

**I no longer have a beta.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts. I've bought the games from Target, but that doesn't count.  
**

* * *

I float above a black sea, arms and limbs spread out in all different directions like I'm attempting to make a snow angel in water. My eyes, though open, feel unfocused and blind. The sky above is a tempest of colors--red, black, blue, green, gray, white, and everything in between. They lull me, those colors, pulling every tension and worry from my body until I have nothing left to give, to care about. The waves move around me quietly, even though they really don't. It feels less like I'm in the sea of midnight waters, and more like I'm simply _there_, not affecting nor being affected.

The nothing world.

A crack of thunder erupts in the sky, screaming down at me. As if on cue, black gloved hands spring out from the dark surface, gripping me tightly. Around my torso, my legs, my arms, pulling me down. I open my mouth to scream, but instead of a voice going out, the water--the sludge--fills my mouth and trickles down my throat, wrapping around my vocal cords. My lungs.

My Heart.

Layers of self begin to peel away--first my clothes, then my skin, my muscles, my bones, all falling away until there's nothing left but my soul. Lassitude takes over, I stop moving. A voice pierces the still air so sudden that I jump. A voice screaming at me with all it can. It strikes my core and this time I break an arm free, reaching up. Reaching for the someone just beyond my reach that I know is reaching back for me. My arms pulse and blood vines break out from the skin, dancing towards the sky. Too late, fingers brush mine. I fall down and the lightning splits the sea.

_"Kairi!"_

* * *

Arms grip my shoulders with an almost painful intensity, shaking me in a way that is neither violent, nor gentle. My head rolls around as if I've snapped my neck. "Wake up!" My shoulders start to burn, not from pain, but from warmth. Contact. Awareness slams into me with full force, and I jerk back. Sora's blue eyes burn into mine. Concern, relief, annoyance, confusion, doubt. Cautious eyes. "Are you alright, Kai?"

"It's Kairi, not Kai." I tell him automatically, not even really thinking about it. A brief interval of silence. "Hands off," he blinks.

"What?" I lift my arms and pinch the skin over his wrists, pulling them into the air, then dropping them near his legs. "Um... Ouch?" he rubs the abused outer layer. "Well, I suppose that if you're conscious enough to inflict pain, I was worried for nothing." He gives me a glance of sorts. "Some nightmare, huh?"

"I guess."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I don't remember it," the lie is obvious, but the fact that I leave it there--hanging in the space between us like stale air--is proof enough that I don't feel like discussing the matter. Involuntarily, I look down at my own arms remember the blood vines

_-needles pricking blood gushing gushing gushing down my arm-_

bursting from my skin. My arms start to tingle and my core goes numb with quiet surprise. A flicker, something I hadn't felt in ages. I clench my fists tightly and focus on the feeling of my nails embedding in my skin, letting the muted pain distract me. Then, I release them suddenly--as if to flick the fear away. My heartbeat calms down slightly and breath easier. Sora gives me an odd look.

"...listening?"

"Yes, Sora, I'm listening." he crosses his arms, unconvinced.

"I highly doubt that, Kai. You were miles away. Centuries, even." The corner of my mouth twitches in a downward angle.

"Do me a favor, Sora? Shut up." I cross my own arms to match his posture and feel a vague kind of shock as he scowls, a rare expression on his face to say the least. Letting that thought guide my actions, I notice something strange on his cheek. A deep gash--already clotted but there all the same--stands out bright red on his face. Another slice mark is on his shoulder. Slowly and stupidly, I realize he's shirtless.

If I'm ever going to say one nice thing about Sora that has nothing to do with his intellect, it's only that he keeps in shape well enough. His arms and chest are all toned, but not to the point of being disgustingly burly. I'd say the muscles remind me of a coil of rope--lean, but deadly when tightened. Compared to me, he's unbearably, painfully, and naturally tan, but I only truly envy it on the nights where light is still visible and my skin stands out like spotlight. At times though, my coloring can be useful, as it blends in with the rest of the island's inhabitant's general pigment while his attracts odd looks.

"Kairi, what are you staring at?" Like the kind I'm giving now. I raise my eyes to meet his and slowly reach my hand towards his face, gently resting it on his cheek. "Kai...?" His voice catches before I turn his head sideways and slide the tip of my forefinger across the cut. He shivers beneath my touch, and a sort of darkness fills his cheeks. From pain? I withdraw my touch slightly.

"What's this?"

"What's what?" he sounds off and I toss him a glance before trying again, this time simply tapping the wound.

"Open wound, bright red. Can't miss it." His shoulders slump slightly and he knocks my hand off.

"Oh, that? _You _happened, Kairi." he shakes his head, bouncing the wild spikes. "You and your off-axis nightmare that you can't seem to recall." Annoyance laces his voice--probably angry I drew blood.

"That bad?"

"Putting it lightly. You were a bloody nightmare--screaming, kicking, and, of course, clawing. The whole damn package. I thought there was a Glamour in your room, pecking out your eyes or something! And poor Firelk is probably huddled in a corner, convinced that you're possessed!" he scratched the back of his skull absently, closing his eyes. "Look, it's still early, but after that racket I know there's no chance I'll be able to sleep without a dagger or six tucked into my pillow." Standing up, headed for the door. "I'll start breakfast, come join me when you're more on the lucid side of life."

The door makes a resounding echo.

Definitely angry I drew blood.

For a moment, I sit quietly in the maze of blankets, trying not to let my mind stray to the darker places the brief flicker had opened a door to. Again, I clench my fists and control my breathing. But this time a chill

_-cold air rushing quiet nothing there anymore-_

moves over me, instead of the calm--the uncomfortable kind of chill, like someone you don't know blew on your neck or in your ear. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stand. "If you can't control it, just ignore it." I mutter quietly, and pull out my clothes chest, sorting through the garments--considering and subsequently discarding. A skirt was an unbearable idea--as always--and dresses fared no better. Often, I'd find myself pondering why I even buy the things if I never wear them, and could never come up with a reason. Probably for the same reason I keep the rusty old locket I never wear. Just because.

Eventually I decide on a pair of thick, gray boy shorts with over-sized black-buttons on the front--held up with my leather suspenders--coupled with long black leggings underneath and a loosely fitting, elbow-length sleeved dark shirt. Holding my hair up, I fasten a black choker with a small purple pendant attached around my neck. For a moment, I pause--wondering in that pale morning haze what I was forgetting, then I close my eyes, refusing to believe my own stupidity. Shoes.

I drop to my hands and knees, rummaging around for a pair of unlucky boots that had most likely been swept beneath the fabric sea--never to be heard from again. My fingers crash yesterday's jeans and they shoot into the wall, creating a sound that sounds like the child of a _thump _and a _clink_. The latter catches my attention, and I stop searching long enough to remember the Ancient's Art I had kept in the pocket. I reach out and grasp the pant legs, pulling the garment towards me. It takes a moment of fumbling with the pockets, but I finally manage to wrangle the little trinket out.

The bronze looks undamaged in the fight with the wall, and none of the gems have fallen out. My eyes are drawn again to the strange center--the hole that seems to turn inside and outside at the same time--and I trace the rim slowly. The metal is cool to the touch, and I remember Carman's comments about Bellacose.

_"What he does, you see, is tap into the hidden abilities locked inside Ancient's art and technology."_

I flip the piece over and squeeze it tight in my hand, pressing the jewels against my palm. "Now, what could you be hiding?" Unsurprisingly, it doesn't tell me, so I place the trinket in my pocket. Another bit of black catches my eye and I nearly smile. My boots. I tug them on and head out into the main room.

Sora's flipping something that smells rather delicious in the pan by the time I poke my head around the corner. He looks up when I enter, a bandage on his face. His expression wavers, then falls before he points the greasy spatula at my ensemble.

"Kairi... Please tell me you know you're a girl." I blink.

"What?" he shakes his head in a melodramatic fashion, turning back to the eggs in the pan.

"It's nothing but pants, pants, _pants_ with you." he throws me a sideways glance with a look of tired defeat in his eyes. "It's like you're begging for something to take another crack about getting into them." My eyebrows stretch towards my hairline.

"Sora, what're you on about now?" He turns away.

"Nothing. Never mind." He hands me a tin plate and shovels eggs on it before dumping the remaining food on another. Then he takes a seat at the table and starts eating, not sparing me a second glance. I sigh and roll my eyes.

"If you're going to pout your life away, please spare me the torture of being in the same room." his silverware--tinware, technically--clatters loudly onto the table.

"I'm not pouting!" he stands up. "Jesus, can't a person do anything without you accusing them of overreacting or being on the rag?" Blood flows into his face and his eyes turn a harsh, cold shade I rarely see from him. I tease him too much, I really do. But sometimes I truly can't help myself, it's just so funny when he actually gets angry with me.

"I suppose they could, but they often don't." I open a drawer and pull out a fork of my own, examining it for any serious dents or strange concoctions back from my days of 'cooking'. Instead of sitting down next to him, I lean across the counters adjacent to the stove and take a bite of the eggs. "Sit down, else your food'll get cold." I tell him in between bites, watching as the calm tone has the opposite effect on the outside. His fingers twitch.

"You're always so damn..." he trails off--unsure of the term or unwanting to say it, I'm not sure which. But either way, his voice has quieted and I'm left wanting to know what he truly thinks. Anger is like alcohol; it makes you loud, it makes you stupid, and it makes you dishearteningly honest. That's why I like to get him drunk on it as often as possible, no matter the consequences. Someone like him, you never know what they're thinking underneath all the smiles and witty banter.

"So damn what, Sora? I'm dying to hear it." I take another nibble of the food, giving him an expectant look, but he catches on and sinks back down onto his chair, hand covering his face.

"Kairi, you really need to stop doing this." Tired now. Sick of it.

"Stop doing what?" the hand falls down, crashing loudly onto the table and he glares at me without the annoyance burning in them like before. Now he just looks weary.

"Enough. Please." The magic word, used to bribe little children and selfish adults alike. I fall silent, taking another forkful of my now lukewarm food. He's stopped moving altogether.

"Don't waste food, Sora. Or are you that fat already?" My eyebrow arches of its own accord, making him snort a little.

"Fat? No, no. All be muscle here." he says in broken English and points to his slim stomach, imitating Syon no doubt, making me crack a smile as an image of the burly bar owner comes to mind. A flash comes over his face--of what I can't tell--and he turns to me suddenly. "Hey, how long have you known Syon anyways?" Momentarily I pause, hesitating, then I think back, letting out a puff of air to blow a chunk of red hair out of my eyes.

"Well, I met you when I was ten so... I probably met him when at seven or eight." He snaps his fingers dramatically and makes a 'tch' sound.

"Old guy's got a few years on me then..." Old? I think back on him again, confused. It occurs to me, now, that his hair is stark white, the hair of a vigorous, aged man. Somehow, he had always seemed young to me, no matter how much time went by.

"I guess he is a little old, huh?" I muse aloud, resting my chin on the palm of my right hand. Sora shoots me a look of amusement, snorting a little.

"Just realizing that now? Don't worry, Kai. Man like that, he's gonna live to be older than the gods. How in the hell do you think he's managed to stay in shape that well?" Rolling my eyes, I walk over and poke his stomach through the soft, black fabric of his plain black long-sleeved shirt. It's firm, but nothing compared to Syon's gut, which I had often hugged back in my younger years.

"Beats me. Maybe he actually eats all his eggs before going for a two day walk?" A strong pulse travels from his stomach to my fingertip and I pull back. I'm being too touchy today.

"I'm not really hungry today, Kai." he mutters, looking at his hands, and I shrug, taking his plate away.

"Alright, I'll just leave this out for Firelk then. He's nearly as useless on the stove as me." Sora doesn't say anything, just keeps staring at his hands, opening and closing them at odd intervals. His gaze is accusing--eyes full of derision, as if the digits are an insult. Normally he would take this opportunity to mock my cooking skills--or lack thereof. I head back over and sit next to him. "You're certainly iffy today. Need some more fresh air or did you get enough last night?"

He looks up now. "Reminds me, did that happen during the brawl we got dragged into?" he taps his cheek, on the side without the slash mark. I touch the side of my face and feel nothing. He sighs and reaches out to my face, stopping about a hair's width away. "There." He retracts his arm, but the residual heat makes the area obvious. I feel for it myself and find a small tender spot.

"Must've gotten love-tapped a bit harder than I thought," I twist my hair up in my hand, holding above my neck. "You didn't get hit, did you? I won't work with 'damaged goods', remember?" I ask him, quoting Carman's mainly one-sided conversation.

"Speaking of the loon, we haven't really talked about how we're going to try and sneak into the middle zone, have we?" He leans back in his seat and I pick mine up, turning it around and sitting with my legs wrapped around what would normally be the back and cross my arms on the top of that same, somewhat nameless part of the chair.

"Well, last I checked, we were bickering over whether to attempt that or not." He rolls his eyes, slanting his mouth into a half-smile.

"I figure if we're even going to consider the concept, we should probably prepare--mentally at least." He sneaks a quick look at the metallic ceiling--nothing much there, just a vast assortment of different kinds of ore melted together at the seams in a patchwork job. My main thoughts toward Home were that we were just lucky to find it when we did, but he'd made it very clear five years ago that just the fact that it was _there _fascinated him. Sora loves to pick apart objects the way I love to pick apart people. New ideas and discoveries give him more adrenaline than running from a Hellspot at top speed.

He looks down now, bringing me back from my thoughts.

"You said you did a blind job before, right? How did you get into the Middle?" I don't like to talk about the past, but I shrug, trying to hide it even though he knows this very well. I don't want to ruin the calm, thinking mood that's settled over the two of us.

"Contact one of us had on the inside. Name was Ebillion I think--one of those paid informant leeches."

"Was? He's dead now?" I nod, but he double-takes. "_Us?_ As in, more than one? You ran with a crew? Jesus, Kairi, how old were you?" He's pushing it now, he thinks I'm being open. That I'm in a sharing mood and that he'll finally get some answers about everything he doesn't know. I think a part of me wants to explain, just a little. But I can't. Not to him.

_Calm down, Kairi._ I tell myself. _Give him just enough to shut up._

"A crew, yes. There were five of us, I was seven. Kids grown up fast here. Now, if we're done with show and tell, may we please get back on track?" He sighs, but doesn't bring it up again.

"Well, we could always try contacting one of my old Middle Friends..." He scratches his head, and we both know it's only a halfhearted suggestion. Most of his 'friends' dropped him like a lumino-feather bird after his status fell, and he broke off all contact with those who didn't after our 'career' began. Didn't want them involved in anything happened to him, I suppose. His family's reputation wouldn't suffer because they cut him off after the incident with his parents, but those who didn't would be scrutinized more closely--sometimes even labeled accomplices. Yet another reason why 'slummers' like us are looked upon the way we are.

"I wouldn't make you do that, I'm not that insistent on this job." He smiles that half smile of his again, giving me a look that said he didn't believe me.

"It's a hundred-thou of diamond creds. If you aren't 'insistent' on that, I think I'd start to be a little concerned."

I open my mouth to retort, but just then Firelk wanders out of his room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I turn to the clock and see we've both been up for nearly an hour. The metal room shines briefly, signaling the rising sun. Another of it's mysteries, I suppose. We never really need the rusted timepiece on the wall--it's more for show than anything else--and even without it and the strange alloy, the sounds of Moonharts as they catch fire in the rays of the sun is something no man or woman of the Low Zone can live their life without recognizing.

"Morning, lazy bum," Sora says, ruffling the soft goldenrod hair on the young merchant's head. "Hope you didn't have too tough a time this morning."

"Hnn?" Firelk looks up at him from beneath dark brown eyelids, his almost cat-like eyes looking as tired as the rest of him. "What happened?" Sora gives me a look of utter disbelief and even I have to raise my eyebrows. I stretch my arms, hearing a satisfying _pop! _and _crack!_ come from the sockets.

"I suppose he can't help it, Kai... Young boy metabolism and all." Despite his words, he still shakes his head. Pins and needs rush through my arms as the blood flows back through them, and the hem of my shirt lifts just a little bit. The cold steel chair presses into my stomach.

"All I know," I finally say, relaxing. "Is that if a Glamour or a dissatisfied customer comes overnight, _you _can be the one to wake him up." He frowns playfully.

"Now that's not very nice! Where else are you going to find a partner who'll not only tolerate you and your foul mouth, but cook for you too?" A cocky grin lights up his features. "Face it, Kai, I'm one of a kind."

"I shudder at the mere thought of a duplicate." I smile small, letting him know I mean it. No one could ever be like him. He just lets out a falsely insulted puff of air.

* * *

We leave Firelk alone, letting him wake up without us and our usual noise. The sun glows softly overhead, behind it's usual cloak of misty clouds. The streets are already humming, becoming alive with the promise of another new day. Sora walks at my side instead of behind me or in front of me, the two of us breathing in the damp air that would soon be replaced by the exotic scents of the market. We pass _The Nothingtown_, but the doors are closed and boarded. Shut down for good, I hope. Blood stains the dirt road, seeped into the soil. The fetid scent of death remains heavy in the air like an overpowering perfume. I can't seem to pass it fast enough.

Eventually we reach the center, in front of the old clock-tower. A fountain sits before us, made out of what looks like ancient gears and gray rock. There used to be an engraving etched in stone at the base of it, but years of wear, tear, and the effects of impure water misting down. We both take our seats on the ground, him sitting cross-legged and me with one leg pulled close and the other sticking out. The earth below us is packed tight, from the constant walking. The two of us normally don't talk here, but despite the shade, the weather is inhumanly hot, as it often is in the first cycle.

Time in Destiny Islands is told by moon cycles. Each is eighty-six days long and represents a different phase. The first cycle--the one we're in--is heated and humid temperatures, and an orb of night so round and full it's often compared to the womb of a pregnant woman. With well lit streets and the Glamour hiding except for the occasional cloudy night, the first cycle is the safest time of the Luna. During the second cycle, the moon is sliced in half, and during the third it's nothing but a sliver of night. The fourth cycle is a terrible time. Crime rates escalate, death and birth rates increase, and the Glamour and all sorts of other nastiness come out from hiding. Sora and I try to acquire as much funding as possible for those dreaded weeks, and don't venture out of Home after the seventeenth hour.

I gaze up at the hidden blue above and think about Carman's offer again, tuning out Sora's attempts at smalltalk. A job like that, we could afford to be unemployed for two Luna, maybe three. Or, if we worked the other three-fourths of it, quite a lot of fourth cycles. More than I cared to count or contemplate.

A wave of heat swept by suddenly, and I fanned myself with my hand. Sora stopped talking.

"You okay?" His brow was knitted in concern, but not sweaty. He hated the cold as I hated the heat. The only time we were truly in agreement was in spring.

"Just starting to realize how those eggs felt this morning." I shot him a look. We were both wearing long sleeved black shirts, yet he looked completely cool. While I was wearing shorts and thin leggings, he was wearing thick, baggy patchwork pants. I suppose we always were, are, and will be different, but we did make up for what the other often seemed to be lacking. Also, jealousy wasn't something I liked. I pushed it away.

From nowhere, a crisp sea breeze came over me. Sweet and salty at the same time, I relaxed against the chilled stone of the fountain. Sora hesitates briefly, then shrugs and leans back too, drawing childish pictures in the dirt with a stick he must have picked up at some point.

"Back to the problem at hand, Kairi..." I bite the inside of my lip.

"Carman." I say after a moment's pause, finally coming to a decision.

"What about him?"

"We need to find him. He came to us for a reason, Sora. Because he thinks we're young, dumb, and have just an inkling of talent. Enough for him to try and exploit. We knows he won't find anyone else in the Low Zone like us--you said it yourself, you're one of a kind. He's here for _us_. So he has to help." His eyes widen and his forehead skyrockets.

"You think he's going to get us up _there_?" He motions in the general direction of the gate to the Middle. I return his bewildered gaze with a calm one. "You're serious, aren't you? You heard the guy, he says he can't have it link back to him! You think people won't notice him setting up two Low Zone slummers in a whitewashed, cushy apartment?"

"Sora, just listen to me before you start shouting."

"I agree--very much so, very much indeed, young man--listen to her and hear her reasons, for I, too, would like to know." My muscles stiffen and out of the corner of my eye, I can tell he's no different. Slowly, I sit up and turn around. Sitting on the opposite site of the fountain, is a very distinct blonde head.

"Carman, what a disturbing surprise." I keep my tone level, but he looks over his shoulder and smiles widely. Who knows how long he's been sitting there?

"Good to see you too, my dear, my friend, my pet. I take from your secretive fountain-chatter that you and your expendable not-friend have decided to accept my proposal?" Strangely enough, he's wearing a pressed white button up shirt and loose, flat bottom tie. His pants are just as black, and his shoes are nothing remarkable. For someone willing to spend one hundred thousand diamond credits, he doesn't seem to want to flaunt his status. Again, he's clean shaven. By now, I'm guessing his age to be around nineteen, maybe twenty-three at the oldest.

"How about you help us, we help you?" At this, his tanned angular face shows a hint of surprise, making the craziness in his eyes a little less prominent. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, leaving me wondering that--even with my eyes--if I had really seen anything at all. But if I had, he had joined in at the last moment, and was merely guessing about our acceptance.

He turns away, and I hear something clicking. A small blue screen catches my attention. An I-F-Net panel? Strange, hardly anyone uses those anymore since the Seven Counsel implemented the Global I-F-Net plan. The I-F-Net is an information network--something that updates daily with the latest news and contains archives of the older stories. A few Luna ago, all technological terminals were linked to the Net, and there were even a few free connection platforms set up in the Low Zone for those that didn't have any new tech. I'd think someone like Carman would just use those rather than carry around the metal box.

The screen folded up and he stood, placing it in his pocket. Then he walked over to us, smiling pleasantly. "What, my dear twosome, could you possibly desire my assistance in? New equipment? A third partner? An advancement on your payment?"

"How about a free pass?" Sora asks before I get a chance to, also standing up with his fists shoved deep in their respective pockets. "We can't get to the Middle Zone on our own, Carman. You know that. We need to gather intel on Bellacose, scout out the place before we even plan the job." He stares the older man straight in the face, deep blue seas to shallow blue skies. "We need you to set us up somewhere close, but not too close. With people ready to lie for us, but not get too curious about why. If you can do that, then I can almost guarantee the success of this job."

There's a pause, and we wait, wondering if he'll say no. An M'Gara in the sky lets out a cry, flapping its ruddy wings against the invisible air. Then, like a dam breaking, he laughs. Long and loud, he laughs, wiping tears from his eyes.

"And here I was thinking to myself, just me, just me--Woe is me! They shall rob me blind!--but here you are, thinking what I, just I, just I, had been thinking to myself before I happened upon the two of you now. No worries, my dears. Arrangements have been made--my sister's recently married friend owes me a favor or two or six, and has so graciously agreed to be your hostess for the duration of the job if you two should accept."

I hadn't expected this. I had hoped for something like this, but not expected. A disturbance somewhere in my center roils about, making a fuss of things.

_Stop now! _it screams. _Give it up while you can!_

But I look at Sora, and he appears as dumbfounded as I feel. But something inside him seems to be radiating excitement. I can't douse that now.

"Does she have family? Relatives staying there too? Someone about the same age as us would be nice." His smile seems to falter, then grew wider.

"Indeed! A son--adopted--and a husband who's hardly home, so he hasn't the faintest idea who his son's friends are. Bit of a troublemaker, that boy. But you three should get along splendidly. Just _magnificently_!" If Sora is radiating excitement, Carman is ablaze with it. Every bit of him, just... glowing, shimmering from the sheer energy. I can't help but want to feel that too--everything we could hope for in a cover job. It's

_-if something seems too good to be true it's best to shoot it just in case Kairi-_

perfect. Another flicker. Or a warning? I turn to Sora, who's fighting his want to smile. "We should pack." He sobers immediately. Now I swivel my head to face Carman. "So we're going as friends?" I ask, and he nods--still excited, but not as much. "Thank you, Carman. We both truly appreciate how helpful a client you've been to us. The two of us will be packed shortly, but you're welcome to wait at Home if need be." Cool politeness, that's all I can manage. All I need too.

"I would like too, if you honestly don't mind." his shine fades now, he's collected and somewhat sane. We start back, side by side again, but with Carman trailing after us like a ghost. Sora gives me an air, as if to ask, _'What's the matter?'_

I return it with one of my own, as cold as I can make it without being cruel. _'I don't trust him. Not one bit.'_ He nods his agreement.

The metal door of Home creaks open noisily, but Firelk is nowhere to be seen. A holo-page is left on the table, the flickering blue screen spelling out that he went to go sell the rest of our loot from the Hellspot. I one-handedly type in my own response while Sora goes to his room to fill up a satchel of the 'barest necessities' that I told him to take on any job. "I imagine we won't be needing to pack clothes?" I ask Carman before heading towards my own room.

"Middle Girl wear--skirts and dresses and lace and cute sorts of things to tickle the fancy of young men--would be nice, should you have some. If not, then your clothes--I suppose on some slight chance of the slightest population of Middle Girls--might be suitable as long as they're well tailored." Skirts and dresses and lace. Lovely. Just an hour or so prior, Sora was asking me if I even knew I was a girl. I do, of course, I just don't like to look like it too much.

I open the chest in my room again, no longer looking for jeans and shorts, but for the occasional whim purchase. I find one short, dark maroon skirt that I liked because of the gossamer fabric on the outside that swirled like water around my legs. One extremely slimming shirt, a rich, violet color, with black vine embroidery trailing up from the hem--which is nearly long enough to make it a mini-dress. Eventually I stumble on another skirt--this one black and just as short and flowing as the other. I take some jewelry, too, before I find the dress.

I bought the fabric for Firelk ages ago, as a present of sorts. A few yards of the softest black and the most shimmering white. His eyes lit up when he saw it, but he refused to tell me what he was planning on making. A week later, I wound up with a rectangular box on my blanket mound. Inside was a strapless dress in the same shades of black and white. It reached just a few inches above my knees, and had a slight but acceptable amount of frill at the bottom. The white made up the center and a few of the lacy ruffles on the bottom, but the majority of it was pure black. The back of the dress laced up like an old corset and was hard to manage, but it was the nicest thing Firelk's ever done for me.

I gently pack it, smiling softly to myself. In the secret pocket of the sack, I put my lockpicks and the Ancient's Art that has been catching a free ride in my pocket for who knows how long. Eventually--when I know there's nothing left to take--I sling the strap over my shoulder and join the others.

Carman is sitting on the table like an excited schoolboy, and Sora is leaning against the counter, frowning at him distrustfully. He sees me and smiles a little.

"Ready to go, Kai?" I nod, and Carman leaps off and opens the door for us like a gracious host.

"Carman?" he directs his gaze to me, looking strangely sane. "What're their names? The family's, I mean." He smiles kindly, as if recalling a pleasant dream.

"Annika Bellemore is the wife--a charming young woman with feathersoft brown hair and the brightest hazel eyes. Her husband--Finder Bellemore, strange man with sleek black hair and eyes the palest shade of blue imaginable--is a businessman, working for the I-F-Net company. Their son--the one you shall be posing as friends with--is quite the odd duckling in the bunch. His hair is long and an incandescent pigment of the purest silver. His eyes are sea green--thinker's eyes, they always have something weighing behind them. He's quite unhappy with his Nothing Nothing life from what I hear." He pauses, musing quietly to himself.

"His name?" Sora asks, snapping the young man out from his reverie.

"Ah, my apologies. Riku, it is. Riku Bellemore." With that, he pivoted on one foot and strolled out the door, us close behind. As we all found our pace, Sora nudged me in the ribs.

"What?"

"I think I might know this kid, Kai. Back when I was growing up, there was always this pale kid with the creepiest eyes. They practically glowed when you looked at 'em. I didn't trust him." This could be a problem. I bit the inside of my lower lip.

"Think we can trust him now?" he lets out a puff of air, staring up at the sun--still hidden behind layers of filmy grayness. It takes awhile for him to respond, and when he does, I feel the discontent in my stomach grow larger.

"For our sake, Kai? I certainly hope so."

* * *

**Cliffhanger? Not really. But I did say I might put Riku in here, so the Angst Cloud now has an upcoming part. Weee...**

**_Thank You to My Reviewers:_**

**_Nierx, soraroxas365, signora del cielo delle stelle, Scarlet Ookami  
_**


	4. Pathways to Horizons

**Hey there clickers! After a much-shorter break, A Story With No Title has been updated. In this chapter, Riku makes his first appearance--as an asshole--and then his second as a slightly less asshole-ish guy. Well, let's just get right down to it.**

**Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts and all it's characters that are mentioned in this story (Sora, Riku, and Kairi) are not my property, and therefore belong to Square Enix. Yeah.**

**Special Thanks To: My Not Really But Sort-Of Kinda Beta, Scarlet Ookami.

* * *

**

_Chapter Four:  
Pathways to Horizons_

As we approach the gate to the Middle Zone, the apprehension that has been brewing in the lower regions of my stomach for the duration of the walk begins to reach a full-fledged boil. My fingers tighten a fraction more around the strap of my bag, but I keep my face impassive as I can. Beside me, Sora's whistling merrily to a melody that seems vaguely familiar, yet I can't seem to recall. Sad and sweet, it relaxes me, even though I have a hunch that he's terribly off-tune. Ahead, Carman is taking his time, his pace leisurely and with no concern despite the serious infraction that could end up on his record if we're caught. Narrowing my eyes, I imagine freezing his back with my gaze and turning that crisp white shirt into a slice of frozen fabric. Improbable, but an entertaining thought.

Ahead, the gate looms threateningly, as if it's telling us to turn around and go back to where we belong. Even with the dramatic changes each cycle change brings around, the wooden doors are in perfect condition; the intricate designs engraved on them are pristine and look as if they've been sitting in a museum for ages, instead of the dirt-ridden streets of the Low Zone. The metal isn't worn, nor is it rusted. Everything looks shiny, shimmering and brand new. A promise of a better life ahead for those leaving, and a cruel, forever taunting reminder for those who remain. I've caught Sora looking at it with a disconcerting look in his eyes many times. Each time I begin to dissect what he might be feeling—loss, sadness, and repulsion—he sees me and smiles, wiping away any traces of those unwanted feelings.

When he does that, I'm never sure if it's because there's something there that he's hiding, or if I could possibly make him that happy. I've never asked, and he's yet to say. I doubt it's me though.

The guards ahead signal for Carman to come over. Black visors cover their eyes, but they reflect neither light nor faces. Navy blue caps cover their heads and ears, and over their similarly colored shirts is high-quality body armor. Recently, there's been foolish enough to try, but every once in awhile, some drunkard or kid with something to prove will try to kill a guard. One has yet to succeed. They say there was an epidemic of that back when the Zones were first invented, but if that was true, the Counsels have become wiser since then. The armor is made from Glamour shells, but coated with a layer of Lillika's blood to protect it from the full moon. All guards are fully equipped with a range of weapons so wide I don't care to go into detail about.

While Carman steps forward, Sora and I stand by awkwardly like two little kids left alone in a market. He, more than anyone, knows how I feel about this now. I was excited for the chance, but the reality of it is that any moment now we could be struck with Perculsus sticks so violently that the mere voltage coming from them would kill us. We could be arrested and hung. I'd have to see Syon's face, sullen and brokenhearted, before I died. That would be worse than anything I could imagine.

Sora gives my shoulder a well-intentioned squeeze, trying to reassure me. The thought is nice, I relax into his touch briefly, enjoying the distraction from my own groundless worries. But when the contact lingers, I push it away as gently as I can. He's nervous as I am, there's no reason to add insult to injury. A look into his ocean eyes reveals something so deep, even I have to look away. He coughs.

After a long chat with Carman, a guard—obviously male—makes his way over, swaggering with self-importance. He takes a good look at Sora, and holds his face between his thumb and forefinger, as if examining something hazardous. The white bandage stands out brightly against his dark skin tone, and the guard pulls back the medical tape, lifting up the non-stick gauze and peers with disgust pinching the features we can see. He roughly slaps the patch back down and looks like he wants to wash his hands.

"You gettin' inta fights, kid?" He asks Sora, as if looking for any reason to send me and him back down the street on our asses. "Cause 'at sure as 'ell looks like a nice li'l knife slice right there." His speech is fast, skipping over syllables as if he couldn't be bothered with them. "They don't want no troublemakers up 'ere." he jerks a thumb towards the gate.

"He's not a troublemaker," I say evenly, drawing the guard's attention towards me. "_That_," I jerk my head towards the bandage and waggle my fingers. "Was my fault."

"Got a bit ufa temper, d'ya?" He asks, giving me a once over that's far too long for my comfort. Eventually he stops, but the visor prevents me from knowing where. However, with all the stories about guards, it's not hard to guess, and just the thought of that makes me feel violated.

"I suppose," I speak as coolly as I can, and put as much ice into my gaze. His features suddenly tighten in surprise.

"Bek! Get over here an' lookit th' gal!" He calls over it his friend, who apologizes to Carman and walks over. "Lookit her eyes! Damn freaky, ain't they?" He leans in too close for comfort, and I feel Sora tense up beside me. My hand snakes around his wrist in a silent warning. "Likea Lamia, ain't she? Cast a spell on me anytime, poppet," His breath is rancid and burns my nose. I want to back away, but I can't. My grip tightens around Sora's wrist, but he pulls it loose, taking my hand into his and giving me another comforting squeeze.

Bek, the second guard, grabs his partner by the collar of his shirt. "I'm sorry about Riles; we've yet to have him trained." Unlike Riles, his words are perfect enunciated, and his manner is much more humane. He offers me an apologetic smile and turns to Sora. "You have my sincerest apologies as well. Your guardian cleared everything up, he tells me that your..." His chin moves slightly in the direction of our intertwined hands, and a small grin tweaks his visible features. "Well, all your paperwork is in order, and we've confirmed your stay at the Bellemore's residence. Please, follow me." Changing the subject, he turns around and pushes Riles away. _"Go open the gate!" _Bek hisses loudly, in the commanding tone of a superior. Then, he starts walking—the slow, silent walk one would see in a member of the Authoriton instead of the fast paced, uniformly measured march of someone in the regular army.

"Well, that certainly could've ended worse," Sora whispers to me, trying to lighten the unfathomable mood that seems to have settled over us all. I avert my gaze from Bek's uncharacteristic walk and examine Sora's features. The smile on his face can't conceal the tightly set jaw or the tundra behind his eyes. Riles seems to have gotten under his skin more than mine. Normally, I would take advantage of this moment to pick apart bits of him, but I don't need him 'drunk' right now.

"Relax," I tell him as soothingly as I know, and return the calming squeezes he's been giving me for the past few minutes. For a moment, he seems surprised, and glances down at his hand as if to make sure it's actually me holding it. He softens, nodding at me as he withdraws his grip. Warmth radiates from my palm to my fingertips, but it's a pleasant, tingling kind rather than the violently uncomfortable white-hot burn that only came with his touch.

His touch?

Though my feet continue to move, my mind stops short. Rewinds, plays. Was it really only Sora? The blazing fire on my skin, have I ever felt it from Syon's hugs? From accidentally brushing my fingers against Firelk's when accepting my earnings? From a fist in a brawl? From a casual shoulder bump with some stranger? From the old days—from the old crew? No matter how hard I thought back, I couldn't recall that pleasant yet maddeningly painful fire coming from anyone but Sora. But when _I_ touched _him_... nothing. Why?

A vibration that roared in my ears and shook my feet startled me back from my confusion. In a great mass of squealing gears and shrieking wood, the gate was opening before us. Through the small, yet ever-expanding gap between the doors I saw glimpses of elegant, beautifully colored dresses and sharp suits. Flashes of ribbon hats and sideways fedoras. White button-ups and black suspender-pants. Some stopped to stare while others passed by quickly as if nothing was going on. A rainbow of people living in a world I could only dream of blossomed before me like a flower. Beside me, I heard a quick intake of breath. Home-Sweet-Home for some.

As the gate's doors stood open—wide and powerful—Carman stepped before us, sweeping his arms out to the side in a grand gesture. "My dears, welcome to your future!" He stepped forward onto the mosaic of gray and white cobblestones that paved the way to new beginnings.

* * *

The streets are strange to me. In the half-decade Sora and I spent working together, I never once thought to ask him about the Middle Zone or to draw me a map. Never found the need. We never really talked about our pasts if we could avoid it, but now I feel a burning nervousness in my stomach, threatening to consume me where I stand. Eyes pierce me everywhere I step, and I feel the distinct impression that even my steps are offensive to the prim and neatly made residents of the Middle Zone. Everything here is foreign, as if I had changed islands instead of merely Zones.

My boots make a sharp _clack! _against the stones, rather than the gentle yet powerful _clink_ of ladies' heels and mens' soft-leathered _thump_. A part of me longs for the soft, packed dirt I've grown up with and the generally faded and warm colors of those buildings along my street compared to the shining white buildings and glass that burn so brightly in the now clear sky. I wonder how the weather here changes so fast, but don't think to voice my question. There are so many things I want to ask, and so many things I feel tugging at my soul. I know none of them are true—all I truly long for is the invisibility I once took for granted.

Carman's pace never slows, and beside me Sora is making sure to walk beside me; just barely close enough to be comforting, yet not too far away. Making sure I won't get lost, I suppose. Easier than it sounds, everything here looks the same—except for the people. The variety here is nothing compared to the Slums, but skin tones now range from my own pasty color to the deepest, richest brown. I can see where Sora got his unusual pigment. I inhale deeply, and pick up on the faintest smell of spices floating on the breeze. The refreshing fragrance buried beneath layers of... something.

"Even the air here is whitewashed..." I mutter quietly, but Sora picks up on it and flashes me a grin. Unlike me, he feels perfectly comfortable here, despite sticking out like a sore thumb—or a black sheep in the plainest of flocks.

"You'll get used to it eventually, Kai." He chirps optimistically. Happy to be home, I suppose. Though the home he remembers is no longer his own.

"I don't doubt that," I respond, not wanting to be a damp towel on his mood. To myself I add, _but do I _want _to?_

We turn a corner, then another. The streets become less crowded, and I figure we've ventured out of the shopping district and into the residential. I find myself daydreaming, giving up memorizing the twisting and turning of the forever similar streets.

Without warning, Sora's hands grasp my shoulders, pulling me back. When did he come behind me? I wind up pressed against his torso, my back conformed to his front like a puzzle piece. Like it was designed that way. Our pelvises collide as well, the bones crashing. I wince at the impact, but now I feel it again. Transmitted from his torso to my spine, his arms to my shoulders, his hot breath against my hair. His leg brushing against mine. At first he's pleasantly warm, but the burn! It starts at the contact points and spreads its way throughout my whole body, catching me on fire. I push and pull away from him violently, and whirl around, throwing him a stare that I hope is as painful as what I felt.

Sora holds up both hands, as if to defend himself. Then he points ahead, at Carman who is looking at the two of us with an interested expression. Studying us, like specimens in a glass. Slowly he nods to himself, before smiling again. He's stopped in front of an old, pale blue house with ivy climbing the trellis that draped over the side like lacework. Soft curtains blew lightly in the windows of the third and fourth floors, and a woman peeked out from the top. Her face lights up, and light brown hair—pinned and curled at the left side of her neck—dangles like feathers.

"Carman! You made it!" she disappears into the house and seems to yell something before reappearing. "Give me a moment, I'll be right now!" Again, she vanishes. Carman makes beckoning gestures towards the front steps, and Sora and I reluctantly climb them. I finger the black spike railing, surprised at how sharp the tips feel. Suddenly, the crème colored door flies open noisily, the brass knocker smacking against the hard wood repeatedly.

Even out of breath, the woman is beautiful. Her skin is clear and angel-soft. Bright hazel eyes—nearly golden—peer out at us from beneath thick lashes. Her lips are naturally plump and she's coated them with a thin layer of gloss. The rush down the stairs has splashed a pinch of color onto her cheeks. Annika Bellemore. For some reason, an awkwardness brims in my stomach. What will she think of us? Will she revoke her offer? I steal myself against the worse, but she gives me a quick once over before pulling me into a quick embrace. The faint scent of lilies overtakes me.

"Oh, Carman, they're adorable!" She holds my face in her creamy hands, turning it this way and that. Her skin is cool to the touch and soothing as salve on a wound. I find myself unconsciously leaning into it. "You," she tells me. "have the finest rose hair I have ever laid eyes on. And those eyes! Such a lovely shade of lilac..." she smiles now, softly. "Like a blossoming flower; kept in captivity she was merely a bud, but let her free and she blooms!" She releases me, and I reluctantly adjust to the lack of contact. She does the same thing to Sora that she did with me, but he looks strangely resentful of her.

"Hair of golden wheat and earth with eyes of a dark blue sea before a storm. This one is a smart child, one of nature." Annika sighs. "Lovely, just lovely,,," She swung her arms around Carman's neck and gave him a friendly peck on the cheek. He chuckled. "It's lovely to see you as well, Carman. Has Vyk been well?"

"Splendid, as always, Ann. May we enter now? I feel rather like a beggar, standing on your lovely stoop like this." I can't withhold my surprise. Carman is acting... sane, again. But as Annika turns away, huffing and chirping, I can see his eyes glaze over slightly—as if intelligence and rationality are just tools he uses when needed and discards afterward. The clueless family friend takes a few steps forward, moving daintily with small-heel white shoes clicking on the wooden floors.

"Well, come on then! For someone who complains as much as you, you're sure hesitant when it comes to _accepting _kindness!" he pushes us forward, and I stumble awkwardly. Sora makes a move to catch me, but I find myself in another grasp.

"Careful," a voice cautions. It sounds mature, but youthful. Someone who has yet to give up the splendors of mischief and adventure, yet sounds... bored. I look up into aquamarine eyes. They look back with fascination and a quiet discontent. "Watch where you walk, this house wasn't made for your kind and the mud you tend to track in." Harsh words, but words with a purpose to test. I bristle, focusing my gaze sharply. He jerks back as people often to the first time they meet my gaze. Sora was no different, but before he can stop me, I'm sending out a retort.

"My sincerest apologies. Next time I'll make sure to wipe my feet on your ego first, seeing as how it's bloated enough to support at least two." I push him away and brush off imaginary dust from my leggings. Annika stands in the door-frame connecting to what appeared to be the kitchen, looking shocked. A chill sweeps over me, and I'm afraid she's about to shoo us out the door with a broom. Instead, she let's out a long, musical laugh.

"Well, I see she's just _your _type, Riku! Nothing but fire! If only the girls around here were more like you..." she continues, but I feel Riku's gaze on me, sizing me up. I glare back. Carman wasn't kidding about his hair, as it hangs in long, jagged layers that shine like chrome. His skin is as pale as mine, yet with a splash more color. In contrast to both—and the general population's wardrobe—he's wearing loose, black cargo pants. His overshirt is unzipped, sleeveless, and is eggshell white and has a strange, threatening pattern of spiked ropes weaving together in an entrancing pattern. Underneath is an equally sleeveless black shirt, and they both reveal arm muscles that are well developed without being burly.

"Your eyes are freaky, don't look at me with them." He says, cutting his mother short. She turns red, now showing the first hint of anger. I've been hearing that word, _freaky_, far too much today.

"Riku!" Annika scolds him, then turns to us apologetically. "I'm sorry, he must've eaten something bad today."

"His _manners _maybe?" I respond callously, watching his face twitch.

"Don't suppose you'd know anything about manners, slummer." He tries to say it like an curse or an insult—and for the most part, succeeds—but it ends with a tone akin to bitterness. Like he's been cheated somehow.

"I may be a slummer, but at least I'm not some pampered little ass whose hair makes him look like a transvestite porn star." Beside me, Sora mouths _Ouch_... and holds his stomach, sympathizing with the agitator, until he takes a threatening step towards me.

"Riku, _enough_!" The voice is loud and male. Annika looks behind us, and I angle my neck backwards. An upside-down image of a livid older man ignores me, facing Riku. He pushes through our small group by the door, and grabs Riku's arm. "These are our _guests_. _Behave _yourself, if not for me or for them, then for your mother's sake." He yanks his arm loose, and tromps up the stairs. The man glares after him through thin framed glasses before rotating towards us. "I'm sorry about Riku, he's been acting out lately. You know teenagers, always looking for attention." Annika links her elbow with his. "I'm Finder, Annika's husband and Riku's adoptive father." His face smiles, but his eyes remain flat and cold like those of a dead fish. Chills weave up my spine; I hate eyes like his. Like mine.

"The living room is this way, we should talk in there." Annika comments, trying to cover up the brief awkward silence that spilled over slightly. Somehow, Finder ends up taking the lead, with his wife happily at his side and Carman following closely, 'catching up on old times'. Sora starts after them, and I dislodge myself from the tiles. When we enter the room, I resist letting my surprise show. Nothing looks like it "lives" in here.

There's three pale yellow armchairs and two pastel blue couches. The walls are, for the most part, plain and uncolored. But hidden in the blankness are soft sky-soft strokes of a light azure. Two family holo-screens of family images are on the fireplace mantle, and there's even a cozy looking afghan to give the image of someone curling up on winter nights to read. However, the attempt at a cheery décor can't disguise the overbearing lifelessness of the room. No casual family evenings have been spent after dinner in this room. No game nights, no watching the Lite-Screen or surfing the I-F-Net for fun activities or videos. There's no love in this room, I realize. Only decorations on the walls.

Annika and Finder are seated by each other on one couch, while Carman takes a chair. Eventually I plant myself next to my partner on one of the two-seated couches. While he relaxes immediately, I try shifting around, looking for a more comfortable spot. The pillows are too soft, and the mattress seats feel like they're trying to suck me down. Then I realize everyone is staring at me, and stop. Sora tries halfheartedly to hide his smile, and fails magnificently. I feel the familiar urge to slap the back of his gravity defying hair. The staring continues. Right as I'm about to ask just what is so captivating, Finder speaks.

"So this is them, Carman? Frankly, I expected... different." Expecting what? I glance at Carman questioningly, but he doesn't spare me a glance and, instead, laughs.

"Finder, you'll never change." He says merrily, but doesn't go on to elaborate.

"I suppose. However, I certainly was surprised when you told us that Riku has sl—Low Zone residents for friends." Slummers, he most like means to say. Now I see why the son said it without a second thought—other than because he was slightly provoked. Finder switches his gaze from Carman to me quickly, and I taste the suspicion on my tongue. "He didn't seem to get along very well with the girl."

"Well, I haven't been completely honest with you, I'm afraid." Carman's eyes slide shiftily, in a terrible criminal impression. "You see, the boy here—Sora—once lived here in the middle and was friends with your son. They kept in contact and have been meaning to have this get-together for quite awhile. However, Sora has recently developed a strong... Relationship, with dear Kairi here." I put on my poker face, but Sora, however, turns bright red. Carman hadn't mentioned this when he said we'd be staying as Riku's 'friends'. I think back to the scene before and mentally wince, realizing he may have had to adjust his cover story after that sorry display.

Well, for better or worse, Sora's facial performance seems to have calmed Finder's curiosity. Annika's face remains that of the model wife, and with a bit of start I figure that Carman may have actually told her the real story. She sees me staring and throws me a conspiratorial wink.

"How has Vyktoria been lately?" Finder asks, and I conclude that they're talking about his sister again. Though I want to focus on the conversation and possibly find something out about our mysterious client, I find my mind wandering to the outside world. The streets—overflowing with people—the buildings—like towering giants—and then the soft smell of smoke that now wafts to my nose, mixed with the faintest hint of burning flowers. It feels... nostalgic, yet I can't seem to place it. My throat burns painfully with something—regret? I hate that feeling. Now my heart catches fire, pulsating wildly—strained painfully. Unrequited love? Who...?

It's not mine.

I can feel the distance of it—attached on a glistening silver string to another aching heart.

Reality pulls me back from the strange feelings, and I'm left wondering if they were just a passing daydream. My body feels cold, even to me, but I push away from this; I need to focus. Carman and Finder are shaking hands now, murmuring impatient goodbyes to each other. Then he and Annika exchange silent smiles, bidding the other adieu in their own little way. He walks to us before he leaves.

"I'll be waiting for your report," he tells Sora quietly, who half-grins, as if to say _Don't worry about us, we'll get it done._ But to me, he smiles another smile, but this one secretive and with the same, strange look in his eyes that I saw the first time he appeared to us. "Watch where your mind wanders. Darker places always lurk nearby." he whispers, so quietly even Sora can't hear. My hands begin to tingle, the way they do before a flicker. I try to push it away but

_-careful of thine wandering eye little girl for your third is the most powerful weapon of all-_

I can't. Now he grins, as if he's won a prize, and gives me a brisk nod of the head before waving to the couple one last time and strolling out the door. After the wood slams, Finder turns to us, his expression anything but the kind benefactor. "I imagine the two of you would like a room to yourselves, we often don't get what we want in life. As it happens, we have two guest rooms—more than you're used to I'm sure." Underneath my hair, my eyebrows skyrocket. His abruptness isn't a complete axis-turn from how he was before, but now there seem to be no limits.

"Annika and I sleep on the first floor, Riku's on the fourth, and you'll be making yourselves comfortable on the second. We do our best not to disturb the other floors here, and I expect you to follow that example." He continues on, but Sora turns to me, his face reading as _Please shoot me as kindly as possible if I ever become that._ I voicelessly oblige. _"Riku! Come down here!"_ Finder yells up the winding staircase, and thumping steps ensue, signaling the return of his not-son. After a moment or two, he appears. I find myself slightly impressed by his speed, but keep the fact that he's a pompous ass foremost in my mind. "Riku, show Sora to his room. I'm sure the two of you have a lot to catch up on, anyways." Finder turns to Annika, who rises from the couch, her skirts billowing around her legs.

"I'll take Kairi to her room," she smiles at me cheerfully and takes me by the arm. I instinctively start to pull away, but the scent of lilies coming from her is calming and her skin is still cool to the touch. I relax. Finder disappears into another room, and Annika guides me past Sora and Riku. I can feel a stare on my back and reason it's Riku looking for another fight, so it shakes me a little when I hear him ask Sora;

"What's wrong with you? Anyways, let's go."

The staircase is colored the same as nearly everything else in the Middle Zone, and the railing is painted wicker. However, the second floor's walls are the shade of daisies. The doors and their frames are a rich mahogany color and the air is thick with the aromas of lemon and honey. It reminds me vaguely of Syon's and I feel a wave of homesickness wash over me. I turn around and see a look on Sora's face I imagine is on mine as well. Annika pulls me down the hallway and we pass one, two, three doors before stopping. She pushes the fourth one open and lets me step inside.

"I'm afraid it's a mite bit dusty... But it's usable." She says apologetically as I look around.

The walls are a shade of powder blue so soft and gentle looking that it collaborates with the rich yellow hues of the hall rather than clashing. The air here, too, smells of honey and lemon—but slightly stale. There's an average sized bed pressed up against the wall and layered with two blankets. There's also most likely two times the amount of pillows an average being would need. A walk-in closet is implanted in another corner, and there's a small bed-side table next to the bunk. The ceiling is lit with a small, oriental looking lamp with no obvious power source. An unopened window hides above the bed.

"Do you like it?" I nod, and for awhile, she says nothing. "Well, then I'll leave you to unpack. The bathroom is next door if you prefer a shower, but we also have a small bathhouse out back—blue roof." I feel, more than hear, her skirts swish as she turns to leave. Her steps start, then stop. "Kairi?" I look over my shoulder, and she's lingering in the doorway, one hand tracing the wood grain of the door, eyes a tad misty. "I'm glad you and Sora are here, you know. No matter what your reasons are." Without waiting for a response, she hurries off, closing the door loudly in her haste.

I begin to feel a little blank, standing in the spacious room. I drop my bag to the floor and walk over to the bed, running a hand over the sheets. A cloud of dust puffs up, tickling my throat and I start to cough, eyes burning. The window catches my eye, and I have to climb onto the bed to fumble with the stubborn latches before it finally opens, successful filling and emptying the room of the airborne dust. I lean my head out and take a large breath of the overbearingly clean air, forcing myself not to think of the home, with its strange and and empty people. I think of my Home; of Firelk; of the smell after it rained; of the lively scents of the marketplace. My mind clears, and I think of the job ahead. So many questions ring through my head—the ones I should have asked, but didn't.

Who is Bellacose? Why him? Why us—why this job, in this place? I slip back into the room and sigh. The outside is white, but the dust is gray, reminding me of the world I will return to in the end. I start to clean, beating the dust off of the mattress and brushing it off other surfaces with a blanket from the bed. Then I lean outside again and bash the fabric against the side of the building, watching as the particles float up and fade, fade, fade away. Then, I sit down on the bed again.

It's firm, but comfortable; gently supporting me. I recline, placing a pillow beneath my head and staring at the ceiling. Briefly, I think of Sora and wonder how he's adjusting. Five years is an awfully long time to be away from where he belongs. I hope I'm not stuck here that long. I hope he's at least happy, being back. I hope the job goes well. I hope...

My eyes flutter closed.

* * *

The sun has long since set by the time I wake up, and the first things to greet me are the moon, the stars, and a plate of steaming food on the table beside me. I realize that I must've dozed off and slept through dinner, which is in itself, both a blessing and a pity. The food looks delicious, but I don't think I could have stood a silent dinner with Riku and Finder.

The plate is topped with a large piece of unidentifiable meat, some thin noodles, a mass of green vegetables, and—the only thing I recognize—a fried honey cake. Slowly, I begin to eat, slicing off portions of the meat and noodle and examining them closely before eating. The taste is strange, but filling, and not at all unpleasant. So filling, in fact, that my food isn't even a quarter gone before my stomach commands me to stop. I hate to waste food, but the rules of life in the Low Zone are burned into my brain. You eat until you aren't hungry anymore, not until you're full. Reluctantly, I put the plate down, but pick up the cake for a snack.

The window is still open, and cool breeze flows in, not carrying the thin air of the daytime, but instead the rich, chilling air I've always known. Unable to help myself, I stick the cake in my mouth and climb outside.

The roof tiles are rough to my hands, and grip to the boots I forgot to take off. I look up at the two stories left to climb and feel my heart swell with anticipation. I've always loved climbing. As a Slummer, being thin and light isn't so much a job requirement than a way of life. After a while, your fingers turn slender, your movements turn quick, and your love for being on top of the world is endless, compared to the constant feeling of being below. With my fingers tingling as they do before a job, I begin my ascent. My body begins to tire, but I can feel something in me glowing. I love it.

As I reach the top, I stop with a strange sight. Riku Bellemore is sitting on the roof of the fourth and final floor, staring up at the sky with a kind of longing in his eyes. His bizarre silver hair sparkles in the moonlight, and his eyes seem to be glowing. He's still wearing the clothes from before, but seems more drained. Less energy than before. Suddenly, he looks down and sees me peering over the roof ledge, and his face turns to one of surprise and amusement—nothing like the bitter disgust from before.

"Mo—Annika said you were asleep." I take his words as an invitation and heave myself up over the edge, sitting down on the roof a safe distance away from him. Then, I take the fried honey cake out of my mouth, aware of how it must make me look ridiculous.

"I was," I answer simply, before taking a bite of the crunchy pastry. "What are you doing up here?" Out of the corner of my eye, he raises one eyebrow.

"I happen to live here. What the hell are _you _doing up here with a honey cake?"

"Eating, obviously enough. I seem to have missed dinner." This time, he chuckles, and I have to wonder what happened to the pompous boy from before. After a moment of hesitation and consideration, encouraged by his sudden attitude change, I break the honey cake in half and hand the side without bite marks to him. Before he asks, I tell him, "The food here is strange, I can't eat much of it." He shakes his head and accepts the snack.

"It's not strange, just better. Full of vitamins, nutrients—shit like that. Don't get why the Low Zone doesn't get the good stuff, too." He waves his hand in the air, as if to emphasize the oddness of it, before changing the subject. "So, I'm supposed to be friends with that guy?" Riku asks, talking about Sora now.

"At least pretend to, for the duration of our stay here." I take another bite. "Did Carman tell you what's going on?" He shakes his head, taking a bite himself this time.

"Annika did. Wanted me to know there were two thieves staying in our house." He gives me a sidelong glance, sizing me up again. "Have to say, I expected worse."

"As in, big, rough looking men with cloaks and daggers?" He laughs again.

"Something along those lines, I guess." his voice changes to serious again, making sure I know he means what he's about to say. "Look, Slummer, I don't really care what you do here. Just don't drag Annika into it—she's not like me or like him," he jerks his head down, and I reason he's talking about Finder this time. "She's a nice lady; I don't want her getting hurt." His eyes flash with passion, and I can see that, underneath all the bravado and harsh outlines, he really cares for the woman who adopted him. The moon burns down as the silence stretches between us.

I lie back on the roof, staring at the stars.

"I have no intentions of involving her, Riku." I tell him, but as he opens his mouth to speak, I cut him off. "And don't call me 'Slummer' like that—if you just refuse to use my name, it's fine, but don't say it as an insult. I can't help where I am now or where I was born, but I will always be proud of those, and of who I am. I suggest you come to understand that." I glare at him, and he shrugs.

"Fair enough." He takes another bite of the cake, and I take my final one, licking my fingers clean afterward. We stay there for awhile, just looking at the sky overhead—me, dreaming of Home, and him thinking of his own thoughts. He never calls Annika 'mom', I realize too slowly. He's afraid to; as if by doing that, something will be ruined.

A shooting star passes overhead, and I imagine a chiming sound as it travels across the sky. Something to fill the silence between us that is both comfortable and awkward at the same time. If it was Sora, there would be no quiet to begin with.

He would be talking about his life here, trying to teach me everything he could to make things easier. He would be reminiscing about Home with me, because he'd know I was missing it. He would be talking about absolutely nothing, just to fill the air that was far too empty. He's attached to me, just as Firelk is attached to him. I sigh and close my eyes again.

I open them back up, and admit that, through the course of five years, I had become just as attached.

* * *

**Yeah. Another special thank you to those who have reviewed so far:**

DRAGONFIRE563, Scarlet Ookami, signora del cielo delle stelle, soraroxas365, Nierx

**_Review Question Of the Chapter:  
_**_What is your favorite song and/or flavor of pie?_**  
**


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